K  A  R  A  D AC 

COUNT  OF   GERSAY 

A     ROMANCE      BY 
K.  gf  HESKETH  PRICHARD 


Authors  of  "A    MODERN    MERCENARY,"    Etc. 


NEW  YORK    •     FREDERICK   A. 
STOKES   COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1901,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  rights  r carved 


"  Daughters  of  dreams  and  of  stories." 

— SWINBURNE. 

"  If  a  man  would  give  all  the  substance  of  his  house 
for  love,  it  would  utterly  be  contemned." — CANTICLES. 


AUTHORS'  NOTE 

DESPITE  all  efforts  made  during  the  five  years  which  this 
book  has  occupied  us,  we  have  been  unable  to  find  any 
record  of  Jersey  history  descriptive  of  the  period  with 
which  the  story  deals.  But  we  are  indebted  for  side-lights 
on  the  subject  to  various  old  chronicles — as,  for  instance, 
the  Roman  de  Rou,  written  by  one  Robert  Wace,  a 
Jerseyman, — through  which  are  scattered  allusions  to 
the  Island. 

K.  AND  HESKETH  PRICHARD 


2137780 


CONTENTS. 


Book  I. 
LOVE'S  MIRACLE. 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.    DREAMS 3 

II.     THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE 13 

III.  CRITICS  OF  ELD    ....        ^       .  25 

IV.  THE  GREAT  QUESTION 32 

V.  LOVE'S  OATH        ......  41 

VI.     LOVE'S  CURSE 50 

VII.     WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW  .        .        .        .58 
VIII.    THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND         .        .        ,68 

Book  II. 
GOYAULT. 

I.  A  SUDDEN  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR  .        .81 

II.  SWEET  AND  SWIFT 93 

III.  THE  DEAD  EAGLE 105 

IV.  THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT        .        .        .        .113 
V.  THE  SANDS  OF  L'ANCRESSE  .         .         .         .123 

VI.     THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT     ....  134 
ix 


x  CONTENTS. 

Book  III. 
G  U  N  D  R  E  D. 

CHAP.  FACE 

I.  THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN     .        .        .        .147 

II.  LOVE'S  CHANGELING 158 

III.  LOVE'S  MOCKERY 166 

IV.  THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA     .        .        .        .176 
V.  THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST 187 

VI.     AFTER 200 

VII.     GOYAULT'S  WIFE 209 

VIII.     "  THE  CHORD  OF  SELF  "        .        .        .        .217 

Book  IV. 
LOVE'S   VICTORY. 

I.     ALGITHA 229 

II.     GUNDRED 239 

III.  KARADAC      .  250 

IV.  GOYAULT 262 

V.     GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION 267 

VI.     THE  TOWER  IN  THE  SEA        ....  276 

VII.     THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY         .        .  282 

VIII.    VICTORY 290 

EPILOGUE  ........  296 


BOOK  I. 
LOVE'S  MIRACLE. 


Daughters  of  Dreams. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DREAMS. 

IT  was  a  time  long  long  ago,  past  the  distant 
hills  of  other  lives,  lived  somewhere  in  the  mist  be- 
yond them.  Part  savage  and  part  beautiful  the 
now  forgotten  tenour  of  horse  at  morn,  and  court- 
yard and  hall  in  the  eventide.  Half  lost  in  the 
golden  glory  of  romance,  yet  none  the  less  were 
men  men  and  women  women  as  we  love  them  now. 

Knight  and  lady,  a  procession  moving  in  the  mys- 
tery of  an  aeon's  twilight.  Sleepers  in  stone  in 
ancient  chapels,  dead  lovers  and  dead  loves,  who 
long  ago  turned  their  faces  to  the  wall.  Knights, 
mailed  and  sworded,  with  lives  perhaps  as  fantastic 
as  their  armour,  whose  hot  days  ended,  the  bar- 
baric clay  was  laid  to  its  abiding  rest  with 
pageantry.  Ladies,  clothed  in  a  seemliness  of  cer- 
emony, bearers  of  great  names,  northern  passion- 
flowers, who  scorned  and  loved  and  lastly  slept. 
And  in  the  quiet  chapels  through  mullioned  win- 
dows the  green  evening  light  grew  in  and  closed 
about  them  and  their  age. 

Other  histories  have   scrawled    themselves   over 


4  DREAMS. 

the  names  of  Karadac  Count  of  Gersay,  of  Goyault, 
of  Algitha  and  Gundred.  Thor  aide,  the  battle-cry 
of  the  Cotentin  and  the  Isles,  even  then  a  Danish 
anachronism,  has  now  its  only  memory  in  chronicle 
and  stone.  But  the  same  hills  looked  on  them  and 
upon  us,  and  yet  will  look  on  our  forgetting.  Our 
fevered  lives  too  will  sink  away  into  a  far-off  din 
and  then  we  too  shall  be  enveloped  in  the  en- 
croaching silence,  which  walks  a  little,  always  a 
very  little,  way  behind  us.  It  is  this  very  silence 
that  forms  the  background  against  which  we  flash 
out  our  appointed  lives.  We  are  ever  racing  before 
it  a  hopeless  race,  as  children  race  before  a  cloud- 
shadow  on  a  hillside,  until  it  swallows  us  and  blots 
out  the  sun  for  ever. 

On  a  summer  night,  while  William  the  Norman 
yet  dreamed  of  Edward's  crown  and  Harold  kept 
the  marches  of  Edward's  kingdom,  the  island  of 
Gersay,  with  its  dark  fringe  of  forest,  swamp  and 
rock,  lay  a  sombrous  jewel  in  the  setting  of  moon- 
lit sea.  The  tide  was  high,  and  a  shining  shield  of 
water  filled  the  bay,  with  the  long  black  shadow  of 
a  reef  flung  like  a  scabbarded  sword  across  its 
brightness.  Warm  airs,  soft  and  sensuous,  floated 
over  from  the  island,  whose  wooded  summits  hung 
dim  against  the  northern  sky. 

On  the  seaward  end  of  the  reef,  behind  an  up- 
standing shaft  of  granite,  yawned  the  deep  mouth 
of  a  cave. 


DREAMS.  5 

"  You  seek  for  love,  my  son  ?  "  The  hermit 
stood  on  the  ledge  above,  his  white  hair  and  beard 
gleaming  pale  against  the  cavern's  gloom. 

At  his  feet  in  the  open  moonlight  sat  Karadac, 
haute  seigneur  of  Gersay  ;  down  below  in  the  tri- 
angular shadow  of  the  cleft  a  little  boat  balanced 
on  a  heave  of  water. 

"  Aye,  father,  seek  it  through  all  the  seasons — an 
endless  tarrying  quest  !  " 

Karadac  had  not  raised  his  head  to  reply ;  he 
brooded  despondently  upon  the  tremulous  horizon 
southwards,  his  black  hair  bare  to  the  light. 

"Since  last  I  saw  you,  Karadac,  I  have  heard 
overmuch  of  dalliance.  You,  my  own  pupil  and 
ward — it  was  not  so  once  with  you  !  Is  this  con- 
fession ?  " 

The  Count  laughed  drily. 

"  No.  If  there  be  One  above,  He  Who  has 
created  me  body  and  soul  can  read  the  intent  of 
my  heart,  and  by  His  judgment  alone  at  the  last  I 
shall  stand  or  fall.  No,  father,  not  confession." 

The  hermit  climbed  slowly  down  to  the  weedy 
ridge  beside  the  Count. 

"  There  are  two  kinds  of  love,"  he  said,  "  love 
mortal  and  love  immortal." 

Karadac  moved  impatiently. 

"  I  seek  human  love.  I  am  young, — give  me 
mortal  love  !  So,  it  may  be  when  I  am  grown  old 
this  mortal  love  may  lead  me  upward  to  the  love 
divine." 


6  DREAMS. 

"Is  all  human  love  but  mortal  then?"  The 
hermit  put  the  question  with  a  ring  in  his  voice. 

"  So  I  have  ever  found  it,"  the  Count  said  bit- 
terly. "  Yet  once  I  too  dreamed  of  love  immortal 
to  be  held  in  mortal  hands,  but — it  was  a  dream." 

"  You  have  sought  love  in  dalliance.  My  son, 
break  off  from  that  quest,  and  wait  until  love  im- 
mortal seeks  you.  You  cannot  paddle  in  sin  and 
go  with  white  feet  before  the  throne  of  God." 

"  What  care  I  so  I  find  love — the  supreme  love 
that  binds  man  to  woman,  the  love  that  draws  two 
—so  they  be  together — unto  heaven,  or  sinks  them, 
if  their  sin  be  heavy,  deep  to  hell  !  Possessing  such 
love,  a  man  might  dare  damnation.  Without  it — ' 
the  young  man's  head  fell  upon  his  breast. 

He  broke  off  and  the  hermit  looked  at  him.  The 
dark  noble  head,  the  long  limbs,  hunter  and  warrior 
and  ruler,  in  his  comely  youth  he  yearned  for  love  : 
was  it  ordained  that  from  him  also  love  should 
dwell  afar  always  ?  In  the  silence  the  water  sucked 
and  gurgled  with  caressing  lips  under  the  boat. 

"  I  walked  with  white  feet  in  my  early  days,"  re- 
sumed Karadac  ;  "  yes,  in  those  early  days  when 
temptation  stirs  most  strongly  in  a  boy's  heart. 
And  if  I  have  sinned  since  then, — how  can  a  man 
know  what  love  is  unless  he  seek  it  ?  There  was  a 
nine  days'  wonder  with  me  once — I  thought  I  had 
found  !  I  thought  it  for  nine  days  and  nine 
nights !  " 

"  At  what  season  ?  "  the  cool  voice  cut  in  upon 
the  passionate  tones. 


DREAMS.  7 

"  In  spring." 

"  Satan  is  loosed  in  spring." 

"  He  rides  his  marches  with  zest  at  other  seasons 
also,"  rejoined  the  Count  derisively.  "But  you 
are  right, — he  possessed  her !  And  I  am  still 
alone." 

"  I  have  been  alone  these  seventy  years !  " 

"  Old  man,  when  you  were  young — if  ever  you 
were  young — have  you  not  felt  as  I  feel  here — to- 
night ?" 

The  hermit  touched  the  Count  upon  the  shoulder. 

"  Look  in  my  eyes,"  he  said. 

And  Karadac  looked.  At  first  sight  the  high, 
worn,  ascetic  features  seemed  those  of  some  blame- 
less saint,  but  the  empty  eyes,  lit  on  a  sudden  with 
a  fire  and  passion  of  life,  were  eloquent  of  battles 
lost  and  battles  fought  again.  A  great  awe  came 
upon  Karadac  as  he  followed  the  furrows  upon  the 
bloodless  face,  which  told  of  a  sorer  struggle  than 
ever  he  in  his  strong  youth  had  known. 

"  You  have  read  ?  "  the  hermit  asked. 

"  Perchance  the  moon  and  the  night  have  fooled 
me,"  returned  Karadac,  "  but  it  seems  that  I  read 
here  in  your  eyes  that  you  too — you  too — "  he 
gripped  the  gaunt  hand  under  its  sleeve  of  coarse 
brown, — "  it  seems  to  me  that  you  too — Speak, 
Ulake,  we  are  not  priest  and  penitent  to-night — 
what  are  we  here  but  man  and  man  ?  " 

Ulake  turned  his  face  upwards  to  the  moon  and 
raised  his  arms. 


8  DREAMS. 

"  I  too,"  he  cried,  "  I  too  was  once  as  you  are 
now !  As  great,  as  fierce,  as  masterful  of  fate,  as 
hopeful,  as  hungry  for  that  best  sweet  gift  of  love ! 
I  too  sought,  and  it  took  me  thirty  years  of  sin  to 
know  the  baffling  of  all  hope.  It  has  taken  me 
thirty  further  years, — grey  years,  my  son — to  live 
the  wild  old  passion  out  of  me." 

"  But  love — "  cried  Karadac,  "  I  would  not  live 
love  out  of  me  !  I  am  full  knight  and  fuller  man." 

"  So  was  I  once." 

"And  now?  " 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Ulake  heavily.  "  I  only 
know  it  is  better  far  never  to  kiss  than  to  kiss  wrong." 

"Never  to  kiss? — I've  kissed  a  thousand  times 
and  still  I  am  loveless  !  No  woman  born  of  woman 
comes  to  me  in  my  dreams.  At  times  I  try  to  build 
her  from  the  void,  deep  eyes  and  golden  hair, 
blushed,  rounded,  beautiful !  The  whole  sweet  vision 
lit  by  some  great  noble  faithful  soul.  And  this  fancy 
of  my  mind  stoops  to  me  from  the  night,  and  as  she 
stoops,  she  fades  away  into  the  stars  and  will  not 
stay  with  me  !  " 

"  And  your  high  ideal  dwelling  among  the  stars, 
you  descend  to  clay,  fouling  your  hands  in  the  vain 
effort  to  build  her  image — her  glorious  image — 
out  of  slime  and  mire  ! — So  you  are  left  to  grope?  " 

"  Aye,  Ulake,  and  you  ?  " 

"  Once  there  was  a  far-off,  half-remembered  man 
called — not  Ulake — who  was  as  you  are.  He  is 
gone !  " 


DREAMS.  9 

"  Then  you  have  never  found — never  loved  ?  " 
Despair  echoed  in  the  question  as  the  Count  flung 
himself  face  downward  upon  the  rock,  and  for  a 
while  in  silence  he  watched  a  little  moonlit  pool  fill 
slowly  with  the  tide.  The  water  throbbed  like  the 
pulse  in  a  girl's  throat,  and  on  a  sudden  he  sprang 
up  stark  against  the  sky.  "  I  must  love  !  Other- 
wise— but  there  can  be  no  otherwise  for  me  ! 
Ulake,  am  I  not  young,  lord  of  my  own  isle,  a 
man  whom  women  look  upon  with  favour?" 

"  Aye,"  responded  the  other  sadly,  "  and  are  not 
all  these  things  against  you  ?  I  too  have  noble 
blood,  and  I  was  strong  and  comely  once  as  you, 
Karadac,  to-day.  And  yet,  though  long  I  sought,  I 
did  not  find." 

"  You  were  blind,  old  man !  "  cried  the  Count 
aloud,  but  it  was  the  accent  of  one  who  will  not 
believe  in  evil  tidings,  even  when  their  bitter  truth 
grows  urgent  on  the  heart. 

"Nay,  not  blind,  but  perchance  I  was  groping  in 
the  mire  when  the  angel  unawares  passed  above 
my  bowed  head." 

4<  Fool,  I  had  not  missed  her  so  !  I  should  have 
felt  her  near.  My  heart,"  the  young  man  clasped 
his  hands  together  upon  his  breast,  "  my  heart 
must  have  warned  me,  '  Karadac,  look  up,  thy 
beloved  is  nigh  ! ' ' 

The  proud  words  rose  exultantly  above  the  ca- 
dences of  the  summer  sea,  but  the  hermit  shook  his 
head  and  sighed.  The  Count  shivered.  The  fire 


io  DREAMS. 

of  his  young  manhood  chilled  before  the  inexor- 
able disenchantment  of  age.  His  clenched  hand 
fell  to  his  side,  his  eyes  swept  round  the  wide  vista 
of  the  night.  Somewhere  outside  those  dim  hori- 
zons she  dwelt  whom  his  soul  yearned  for,  but  his 
voice  could  not  reach  her,  cried  he  never  so  fiercely. 
The  soft  night  full  of  vague  sweet  promise  wooed 
his  senses  and  half  convinced  him  of  the  future,  till 
once  more  his  gaze  fell  on  the  figure  at  his  feet, 
that  worn-out  negation  of  earthly  hope,  and  again 
his  heart  failed  him.  He  almost  crouched  beside 
the  hermit,  and  his  question  was  an  entreaty. 

"  What  then  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"Wait." 

Karadac  paused  for  an  instant  on  the  check  of 
the  one  command  which  in  youth  seems  made  only 
to  deaden  the  vitality,  the  sweetness  of  effort. 

"  Wait  ? — I  have  waited  !  In  two  years'  time  I 
shall  be  thirty  years  old.  My  youth  is  slipping 
away  from  me,  and  the  desire  of  my  heart  remains 
unfulfilled.  I  have  waited — I  have  prayed,  old 
man,  prayed  the  moon  down  from  the  heavens  and 
the  sun  into  the  dawn,  and  what  am  I  in  any  way 
the  better?" 

Ulake  raised  his  weary  eyes. 

"  In  every  way  the  better,  my  son.  Is  a  prayer 
lost  because  the  answer  comes  not  to  the  hour  of 
our  desire  ?  Shall  we  set  seasons  for  the  Almighty  ?  " 
The  rebuke  ceased  on  the  old  man's  lips  as  Karadac 
bowed  his  head. 


DREAMS.  ii 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Pray  and  fast.  Fast  not  only  from  flesh  but 
sin.  That  is  the  true  fast  which  few  allow  or 
follow.  And  having  done  these  things,  wait. — Love 
is  not  found  by  seeking.  It  comes  as  the  showers 
come — from  the  hand  of  God.  My  life  has  been 
barren — that  is  all.  I  sinned  in  the  seeking." 

"  I  too  have  sinned,"  said  Karadac,  and  his  voice 
gained  strength.  "  Nevertheless  have  I  only  used 
sin  as  the  road  that  was  to  lead  me  to  my  high 
aim." 

"  The  wrong  road  never  yet  led  to  the  right 
place." 

"  An  aphorism  !  The  man  who  has  not  the  spirit 
to  do  wrong  has  seldom  the  courage  to  do  right." 

"  A  subtlety  !  "  retorted  Ulake.  "  Karadac,  you 
are  strong  in  body  and  soul,  in  spirit  and  in  heart. 
It  is  not  given  to  many  to  love  as  you  could  love. 
Blessing  and  curse  go  linked  together  in  this  world, 
the  gift  is  bestowed  without  the  power  to  use  it  as 
a  man  would  choose.  It  may  be  that  love  will  yet 
come  to  you  in  earthly  guise,  or  perchance  your 
thirst  like  mine  may  slake  itself  at  the  fountain  of 
love  divine.  Wait. — It  grows  late,  my  son,  come 
to  my  dwelling.  It  is  a  calm  place  and  a  placid. 
Thirty  years  of  prayer  have  consecrated  its  walls. 
Sleep  there." 

Karadac  rose  up  and  followed  Ulake.  The 
moon  had  sunk  behind  the  black  headland  of  Noir- 
mont,  the  salt  cool  wind  stole  in  through  the  rocky 


12  DREAMS. 

crevices  and  stirred  the  hair  of  Karadac  where  the 
holy  man  bade  him  lie  upon  a  bed  of  bracken. 

So  the  night  wore  toward  morning,  and  in  the 
breaks  of  a  sweet  tired  slumber  there  came  to  him 
at  intervals  the  strenuous  wrestlings  of  the  hermit's 
prayer. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  SHADOW   OF   LOVE. 

IN  the  morning  he  rose  early  from  his  bed  of 
bracken  and  broke  his  fast.  It  was  a  cold  dawn, 
but  it  heralded  in  a  fair  day  of  early  summer.  Be- 
fore the  sun  stood  a  handsbreadth  above  the  hori- 
zon, Karadac  had  left  the  black  forest-marsh  behind 
him  and  was  riding  upwards  to  the  higher  levels. 
Turning  his  face  westwards  he  travelled  along  the 
edge  of  the  grassy  cliffs,  whence  he  looked  down 
on  lush  sea-meadows  spread  with  cattle  grazing, 
and  here  and  there  a  patch  of  tillage  whereon  a  few 
poor  hovels  clustered  round  the  dwelling  of  some 
richer  serf. 

In  those  ancient  days  the  lights  of  heaven  wan- 
dered far  before  they  struck  an  answer  from  roof 
and  tower.  Through  the  great  breadth  of  the  un- 
peopled lands  beasts  roamed,  gaunt  wolves,  grunt- 
ing grubbing  bears,  and  fierce  boars  hiding  in  the 
thickets.  And  so  it  was  with  Karadac's  island. 
For  the  tradition  still  lived  that  the  vast  forests 
and  swamps  between  Gersay  and  the  Norman  coast 
were  once  continuous,  before  a  great  storm  rushing 
from  the  north  had  torn  the  land  in  sunder.  Again 


14  THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE. 

another  legend  told  of  a  later  deluge  and  an  earth- 
quake lasting  seven  days,  that  flung  up  the  white 
cliffs  on  the  now  distant  mainland,  and  made  a 
second  cleavage  of  the  primeval  forest  of  Sciscy, 
sucking  its  giant  oaks  and  yews  down  into  the  sea- 
floor,  whence  they  rose  at  intervals,  a  rent  trunk 
here  and  there  to  bear  witness  to  the  dead  glory  of 
their  vast  native  woodland. 

In  Gersay  all  about  the  sunlit  shores  in  open 
places  where  the  gorse  gleamed  golden  on  the 
heights  and  the  blue  sea  lapped  upon  the  sand,  the 
people  dwelt,  simple  folk  who  one  and  all  lived  as 
children  and  thought  as  children  half-sweet,  half- 
terrifying  imaginations  of  great  adventures,  of 
dragons  lurking  by  the  reedy  margins  of  the  lakes, 
and  giants  striding  on  the  wooded  ridges.  All  the 
island's  heart  was  wrapped  in  mystery ;  none  were 
known  to  live  there,  yet  watchers,  gazing  up 
through  vistas  of  rich  deep  verdure  and  hanging 
greenery,  whispered  of  distant  figures  walking  in 
the  turnings  of  the  hills ;  some  told  of  half-seen 
visions  of  dreadful  things  that  gaped  with  flaming 
jaws,  and  others  spoke  of  sorcery  and  enchanted 
songs  tempting  the  wanderer  astray  until  he  plunged 
at  unawares  into  some  dark  water  lying  hidden  in 
the  vales. 

Even  Karadac,  who  often  rode  to  hunt  far  up 
those  dreamy  valleys  with  their  wealth  of  green, 
could  not  escape  the  thrill  which  clung  about  this 
haunted  heart  of  his  kingdom,  the  thrill  of  sudden 


THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE.  15 

shining  pools  and  windings  of  dim  paths  through 
the  moss  and  grass  of  green-branched  solitudes 
where  no  foot  had  passed  to  tread  them.  Yet  it 
was  there  that  he  loved  to  ride  alone  and  to  dream 
of  all  he  yearned  for. 

Karadac,  whom  the  Normans  called  Count  of 
Gersay,  was  kin  to  Conan,  chief  of  the  Bretons,  and 
the  island  had  become  an  extended  fief  of  Nor- 
mandy at  the  same  time  that  Bretagne  chose  to  ac- 
cept the  feudal  yoke,  rather  as  a  means  of  common 
defence  than  with  any  thought  of  submission. 
Much  of  the  old  proud  Armorican  blood  ran  in 
their  veins,  they  remained  to  a  large  extent  inde- 
pendent of  their  overlord,  and  William  for  the  mo- 
ment was  too  busy  with  his  schemes  of  conquest  to 
pay  much  heed  to  the  doings  of  his  remoter  vassals. 
It  was  this  same  Conan  who  a  few  years  later  sent  a 
haughty  demand  to  William  requiring  him,  since  he 
was  about  to  become  King  of  England,  to  deliver 
up  his  Norman  duchy  to  its  legitimate  lord,  the  de- 
scendant of  Rollo  the  Ganger,  from  whom  Conan 
claimed  issue  on  the  distaff  side.  Which  daring 
message  was  the  Breton  chief's  death  warrant,  for 
he  died  of  a  strange  poison  but  a  little  while  after. 

Karadac  with  his  Armorican  blood  inherited  not 
only  a  quenchless  pride  but  also  an  underlying 
strain  of  that  melancholy  which  is  the  sign  of  deep- 
rooted  forces  of  life  and  thought. 

Through  the  blossoming  morning  the  Count  rode 
on.  At  his  back  the  sun  smote  flashes  from  the 


16  THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE. 

white  coasts  of  the  Cotentin,  and  on  the  heights 
the  west  wind  met  him  pure  with  its  flight  across 
the  wastes  of  an  unsailed  sea.  His  mood  was 
changed.  Refreshed  with  sleep,  he  had  thrown  off 
the  despondency  of  the  night  ;  the  sap  of  the 
springing  season  had  gone  into  him  and  he  lived 
in  all  his  veins  as  a  man  should  through  the  ten 
full-blooded  summers  of  his  twenties. 

He  rode  through  a  land  of  boulders  and  of  gorse. 
The  scent  of  the  yellow  blooms  hung  rich  upon  the 
sunny  wind  and  Karadac  drew  a  happy  augury  for 
the  future  from  the  crowd  of  living  fragrant  blooms, 
nor  in  his  humour  took  any  note  of  the  petals 
which  lay  dead  and  discoloured  on  the  turf  below. 

For  nine  years  Karadac  had  ruled  as  Count, 
ruled  with  a  justice  and  a  wisdom  rare  enough  in 
those  days,  his  judgments  shot  here  and  there  with 
silken  strands  of  mercy.  The  exigencies  of  the  age 
joined  to  the  stimulus  of  splendid  physical  powers 
had  made  him  a  man  of  action,  but  below  lay  the 
dumb  spirit  of  a  poet,  dumb  inasmuch  as  it  could 
not  spend  itself  in  vapourings  and  words,  but  dealt 
him  out  a  hard  measure  of  crossing  moods.  Often 
the  real  and  the  ideal  met  with  a  shock  that  stunned 
him,  sent  him  wandering  lost  in  a  vain  effort  to 
reconcile  the  twain. 

Yet  in  spite  of  many  troubled  hours  such  as  these, 
his  heart  led  him  on  a  straight  fair  road.  He  was 
ruled  by  ideas  often, — ideas  which  are  the  stepping- 
stones  to  ideals.  He  was  capable  of  a  great  life  in 


THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE.  17 

public,  but  his  individual  life  was  destined  to  be  a 
deluge  or  an  idyll.  There  he  was  always  in  ex- 
tremes. 

As  the  noon  came  on  he  dismounted  and  lay  be- 
neath a  tree  and  dreamed  all  the  long  bright  hours 
through  until  the  sun  began  to  drop  towards  the 
west.  The  day  was  going  ;  it  was  time  to  rise  and 
turn  rein  for  his  own  castle  of  Mont  Orgueil.  In 
the  soft  afternoon  he  saw  below  him  Ulake's 
hermitage,  black  upon  the  sunlit  water.  The  wind 
had  dropped  to  transient  wandering  airs  which 
here  and  there  brushed  the  still  sea  into  blurs  of 
ruffled  brown  as  if  a  handful  of  sand  had  been 
thrown  upon  it. 

Leaving  the  bay  behind,  he  mounted  another 
crest  of  land  and  following  an  open  track  by  woods 
and  fields  he  came  in  the  late  afternoon  upon  a 
hamlet  lying  on  the  verge  of  a  rock-piled  strand. 

As  he  drew  nearer  he  saw  that  all  the  people, 
men  and  women  alike,  stood  round  a  man  on  horse- 
back who  carried  something  square,  flat  and  large 
before  him  on  the  saddle.  He  held  his  arms  about 
it,  and  its  upper  edge  rested  against  his  breast. 
The  voices  rose  hoarse  and  angry  upon  the  quiet 
air.  The  people  demanded  something  of  the  rider 
which  he  would  not  grant,  but  spurred  his  horse 
forward  yet  could  not  break  through  the  grip  of 
hands  upon  his  bridle  rein. 

Softly  through  the  dusty  grass  stepped  the 
Count's  charger  until  a  woman  turning  saw  him 


i8  THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE. 

come.  But  her  cry  of  warning  died  upon  her  lips 
at  sight  of  his  upraised  hand. 

"  What  is  it  that  you  ask  of  this  stranger  ?  " 

The  rough  crowd  of  fishers  and  tillers  of  the  soil 
knew  the  voice  of  authority  and  fell  silent.  They 
faced  the  Count  half-cowed  and  sullen,  the  low  sun 
burning  in  their  eyes.  They  saw  a  knight,  but 
through  the  close  visor  could  not  recognise  the 
Count. 

"  A  picture,  lord,"  cried  out  a  voice  at  last,  a 
woman's  shrill  voice  ;  "  the  picture  of  the  blessed 
Virgin  and  he  will  not  let  us  look  upon  it  that  we  and 
our  children  may  win  good  luck  and  food  for  winter- 
time." 

"  Is  this  so,  stranger  ?  "  demanded  Karadac. 

"  Nay,  lord,  it  is  but  the  picture  of  a  damsel 
which  I  bear  to  the  Count  Karadac  of  this  Isle. 
I  dare  not  finger  the  thing  to  open  it,  or  it  will  take 
harm  from  sun  and  dust,  and  it  is  the  picture  of 
that  lovely  lady,  Algitha,  daughter  of  Algar,  lord 
of  Avening  and  brother  to  Br-ithric  Maude,  lord  of 
the  honour  of  Gloucester." 

"  Then  you  come  from  England  ?  " 

"  No,  lord,  from  the  island  of  Grenezay,  whither 
Algar  has  been  forced  to  flee  because  of  his 
brother's  rebellion.  Some  say  also  that  the  Lady 
Algitha  refused  to  wed  with  the  Norman  lord 
Gauthier  de  Morlaix,  who  pressed  for  her  hand  at 
Edward's  court,  and  the  king  grew  angry  for  he 
loves  a  Norman  as  his  own  soul.  Thus  for  the 


THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE.  19 

maid's  sake,  she  being  stubborn,  and  his  own 
safety,  Algar  escaped  to  Grenezay,  where  he  has 
dwelt  these  four  months  past  with  Jean  de  Jo- 
bourg." 

"  Jean  de  Jobourg?" 

"  Aye,  one  of  our  chevaliers  whom  Duke  Robert 
set  to  be  lord  of  his  new  castle  of  Jobourg,"  the 
man  replied. 

The  Count  pondered.  A  little  chapel  stood  be- 
side the  wayside,  a  poor  half-ruined  place,  the  sign 
of  a  Christianity  that  had  died  but  was  alive  again. 
The  Count  swung  from  his  horse  and  called  the 
messenger  to  follow  him. 

"  Come  in  hither.     I  would  see  the  picture." 

The  man  did  not  guess  who  the  tall  man  might 
be,  but  yet  he  dared  not  disobey.  Climbing  slowly 
from  his  saddle  he  carried  his  burden  through  the 
gaping  door,  the  people  crowding  close  upon  his 
heels.  But  them  Karadac  drove  out,  and  yet  they 
gathered  back,  and  pushed  a  chequer  of  peeping 
faces  between  the  old  stone  lintels. 

The  little  chapel  was  dark  within  from  its  poor 
earthen  floor  to  the  dim  roof,  save  for  a  ray  of  sun- 
shine which  entered  from  a  slitted  window  in  the 
wall  and  lay  a  broad  and  quivering  line  across  the 
foot  of  the  shrine.  Coming  from  the  glare  and  dust 
outside,  something  of  a  holy  calm  seemed  to  mingle 
with  the  dusk  coolness  of  the  place. 

The  messenger  stood  reluctant  in  the  centre  of 
the  gloom. 


20  THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE. 

"  The  picture  and  my  message  are  for  Karadac 
the  Count,"  he  repeated  sullenly. 

Karadac  laughed  a  little. 

"  Yet  must  I  look  upon  it,  friend,"  he  said. 

A  mingled  groan  and  shout  rose  from  the  door- 
way. The  messenger  knew  it  for  a  threat.  Slowly 
he  withdrew  the  wrappings,  and  holding  the  picture 
between  his  open  palms  laid  it  below  the  shrine 
where  the  light  should  fall  upon  it. 

At  first  Karadac  looked  with  a  dull  uninterest. 
Then  he  looked  again. 

The  picture  showed  a  door  frame  of  carved 
stonework  :  within  its  greyness  stood  a  girl,  who 
seemed  to  pause  upon  the  threshold  and  look 
back  with  eyes  that  held  the  gazer  tranced,  they 
were  so  full  of  girlish  mysteries  and  that  woman's 
lore,  elusive,  tender,  sweet,  a  man  is  ever  fain  to 
read,  and  ever  finds,  however  much  he  learns,  that 
still  beyond  his  ken  lies  some  withdrawal,  some 
delicate  reserve. 

The  warm  and  living  vision  framed  in  cold  stone 
smote  the  Count's  eyes,  it  was  so  like  to  that  which 
stooped  to  him  from  the  night-skies,  "  deep  eyes  and 
golden  hair,  blushed,  rounded,  beautiful."  He  drew 
nearer  still ;  as  he  moved  his  armour  clanked. 

"  Stand  back  !  "  And  at  the  words  the  messen- 
ger stepped  backwards  scowling. 

The  score  of  gaping  faces  that  hung  clustered  in 
the  doorway  grew  very  still,  for  the  ring  of  the 
masterful  command  echoed  to  the  roof.  Then 


THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE.  21 

Karadac,  with  his  back  to  all  the  world,  slipped 
aside  the  nose  piece  of  his  pointed  helmet  to  gaze 
his  fill. 

For  this  was  love  ! 

As  he  saw  them  now  at  closer  hand,  the  pleading 
eyes  were  pure  clear  blue.  Karadac  stood  breath- 
less, his  heart  leaped  from  his  breast,  a  delicious 
aching  in  the  loss.  And  still  those  eyes  absorbed 
him.  All  that  he  had  dreamed  of,  yearned  of,  all 
the  vague  promise  in  his  blood,  stirred  by  the 
springtime  or  crying  through  the  summer  nights, 
lay  sphered  within  those  eyes,  which  seemed  to  hold 
for  him  the  supreme  mystery  of  womanhood  and 
love. 

How  long  he  stood  he  never  knew.  The  last  ray 
of  the  sun  crept  slowly  upwards,  leaving  first  her 
feet  and  then  her  fair,  slim  shape,  and  then  the 
rising  darkness  touched  her  throat  and  wrapped  her 
lips.  And  still  the  Count  heeded  not  until  the 
dying  light,  centred  in  her  eyes,  lent  them  a  sudden 
unearthly  radiance  that  was  almost  speech.  Was 
she  calling  him,  this  girl  ? 

The  illusion  quickened  on  him  ;  he  held  his 
breath  to  hear.  And  at  the  instant  the  sun-gleam 
faded,  leapt  up  into  the  darkness  and  was  gone. 

In  the  dusk  Karadac  closed  his  visor  and  turned. 

"  This  damsel,  who  is  she  ?  " 

"  I  have  said.  This  is  the  Lady  Algitha,  daughter 
of  Algar,  lord  of  Avening.  She  is  accused — " 

"Accused?"  The  Count's  voice  rose  wrathfully. 
"  Accused  ?  " 


22  THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE. 

"  Aye,  accused  of  witchcraft.  Listen,  lord,  since 
you  have  made  me  speak.  I  am  the  messenger  of 
Earl  Algar,  and  he  bade  me  bring  the  portrait  here, 
for  none  in  England  or  in  Grenezay  will  fight  for  her." 

"  She  has  no  champion  ?  " 

"  Not  one,  for  she  will  not  wed,  and  that  many 
people  hold  to  be  by  enchantment.  For  what  girl, 
though  highly  born,  was  ever  loath  to  wed  a  noble 
lover?" 

"And  who  first  accused  her?"  asked  the  Count. 

"  Sir  Gauthier  de  Morlaix,  who  in  England  de- 
sired the  Lady  Algitha,  but  she  would  none  of 
him.  So  he  followed  her  to  Grenezay,  and  after 
much  was  said  and  many  hot  words  had  come  and 
gone,  he  openly  accused  her.  For  that  he  swore 
she  had  bewitched  him,  since  whether  he  will  or  no 
he  can  by  no  means  cure  himself  of  desire  for  the 
damsel.  And  all  the  winter  past,  he  has  not  gone 
forth  to  hunt  but  has  kept  within  his  castle  (which 
King  Edward  has  bestowed  on  him  out  of  Earl 
Godwin's  lands),  because  he  is  still  sick  of  love. 
Most  of  our  seigneurs  in  Grenezay  now  side  with 
him.  At  length  Sir  Jean  de  Jobourg  called  upon 
Sir  Gauthier  to  make  good  his  foul  words  upon  the 
body  of  her  champion,  whomsoever  the  Lady 
Algitha  shall  choose.  But  she  will  not  choose, 
since  all  the  lords  of  Edward's  court  and  ours  at 
Grenezay  refuse  to  fight  for  her  unless  she  promise 
to  marry  of  her  own  free  will  him  who  wins,  and  so 
shall  she  prove  herself  whole  woman,  pure  of  witch- 


THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE.  23 

craft  and  devil's  lore.  But  this  she  will  not  promise. 
And  she  has  spoken  bitterly  of  our  knights,  calling 
them  unworthy  that  will  not  fight  for  love  of  truth 
and  chivalry  alone  but  must  needs  have  a  set  reward 
to  lure  them  to  the  lists.  And  after  that  was  told 
abroad,  no  champion  offered  to  espouse  her  cause." 

"  Then  why  are  you  come  here  ?  " 

"  By  order  of  the  Lady  Algitha  herself,  for  she 
said,  '  Perhaps  over  the  sea,  in  the  Isle  of  Gersay, 
some  noble  knight  may  be  found  to  do  "battle  for 
me.'  " 

A  great  silence  fell  while  Karadac  pondered. 
Then  she  had  called  him,  Karadac,  to  do  battle  for 
her!  It  was  enough!  Presently  he  bethought 
himself. 

"  Get  to  horse  and  carry  your  picture  to  the 
Castle  of  Mont  Orgueil,"  he  said.  "  There  you  will 
find  a  champion.  Sir  Gauthier  shall  be  overthrown 
before  the  summer  leaves  are  full  upon  the  trees." 

The  messenger  raised  the  picture  in  the  darkness. 

"  I  know  not.  Have  you  no  fear  of  witchcraft 
in  this  realm? — Many  would  fight  for  the  beauty  of 
the  damsel's  face,  but  all  mislike  the  tale  I  needs 
must  tell,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  heard  it,"  replied  the  Count ;  "  yet  am  I 
willing." 

"  But  has  it  also  been  told  to  you  that  this  Sir 
("iauthier  of  Morlaix  is  a  vast  man,  and  never  yet 
was  overthrown  ?"  went  on  the  fellow,  with  a  sour 
laugh  in  his  beard. 


24  THE  SHADOW  OF  LOVE. 

"I  have  seen  him,"  said  the  Count,  "and  yet  I 
am  willing.  Ride  you  on  to  Gouray — say  nothing 
of  me — and  I  will  presently  follow  there." 

"  The  Lady  Algitha's  champion  will  need  to  ride 
with  no  loose  stirrup,"  returned  the  man  as  he 
gained  the  door.  "  If  none  be  found  for  her  within 
three  days  she  shall  be  accounted  guilty  by  default, 
and  whatsoever  Sir  Gauthier  and  his  knights  may 
judge  shall  be  done  to  her  in  punishment.  Thus 
her  name  among  all  true  women  must  be  abased 
for  ever." 

"  Ride  on,"  said  Karadac. 

And  when  the  man  was  gone,  with  all  the  people 
following  him,  the  Count  drew  forth  his  sword,  and 
holding  up  the  cross-hilt  to  his  lips  and  breast  he 
took  his  oath  before  the  shrine.  None  should 
hinder  him  from  going  to  this  maiden's  rescue. 
She  who  had  called  to  him  across  sea  and  land  for 
help,  and  his  heart  had  heard  and  answered  her  ! 

Before  God's  shrine  he  had  met  with  her,  his  love, 
and  so  would  he  get  him  back  to  Ulake's  hermitage 
and  there  pass  the  night  in  thanking  the  Giver  for 
His  great  gift.  Afterwards  he  would  ride  betimes 
to  Mont  Orgueil  and  make  answer  to  the  herald. 

So  he  did.  Mounting  the  crested  land  and  thence 
riding  down  the  sloping  beaches  to  the  sea,  he  took 
boat,  and  under  the  cold  moon  high  in  heaven  spent 
the  night  in  prayer. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CRITICS  OF   ELD. 

THE  headland  of  Mont  Orgueil,  crowned  with  its 
castle,  looked  eastward  toward  France.  To  right 
and  left  two  horseshoe  bays,  bitten  out  from  the 
green  land,  turned  tall  and  jagged  edges  to  the 
Channel  tides,  which  leaped  in  white  spray  about 
the  scattered  reefs  at  the  Mount's  weedy  bases.  To 
the  north  curved  savage  bays,  one  dark  beyond  the 
other,  and  here  and  there  rose  wooded  heights  in- 
land, fringed  black  against  the  sky  by  day  and 
crowned  with  stars  by  night. 

Upon  the  ramparts  of  the  castle  two  men  stood 
together  in  the  windy  morning,  and  looked  out  over 
the  broken  gorse-clad  uplands  that  lay  between  the 
castle  and  the  distant  woods. 

"Where  is  the  Count?  "asked  Tonstain,  a  man 
of  a  fine  persuasive  presence,  black-eyed,  black- 
browed,  but  his  thick  hair  already  turned  white  as 
snow.  Some  had  it  that  this  violent  encounter  of 
youth  and  age  set  in  one  body  marred  his  looks ; 
others,  pleased  with  the  variance,  vowed  it  marked 
him  from  the  common  herd  and  fitted  signally  with 
his  high  renown.  For  the  seigneur  of  Grouville  had 


26  CRITICS  OF  ELD. 

skill  in  much  strange  knowledge,  and  worked  cures 
among  the  wounded  and  the  sick  at  which  the  peo- 

o  A 

pie  marvelled. 

His  companion  mumbled  in  his  beard. 

"Who  knows?"  he  said  aloud,  and  shook  his 
head. 

"  He  loves  to  ride  alone." 

"  Alone  ?  Yes,  he  rides  forth  alone,  but — who 
can  tell  ?  "  and  Drogo  de  Barantin  drew  his  lips  in- 
wards as  one  who  could  say  much  but  will  not. 

Tonstain  looked  down  at  him,  for  Barantin  was 
small  and  old  and  ugly,  with  foolish,  anxious  eyes 
deepset  in  a  seared  face. 

"  You  are  his  chief  adviser,  and — the  Count  seems 
not  ashamed  of  many  loves — so  I  am  told,"  Ton- 
stain  went  on. 

"  I  am  Duke  William's  seneschal  of  all  his  lands 
in  Gersay.  You  have  read  the  words  written,  '  Ton- 
stain,  for  you  are  a  clerk,' '  —he  raised  his  voice  to  a 
high  pompous  note,  "  '  and  in  that  which  concerns 
our  goods  and  personal  affairs,  have  full  confidence 
in  our  well-beloved  Drogo  de  Barantin,  seigneur  of 
Rozel.' " 

"  Yes,  yes,  many  a  time  and  often  I  have  heard 
of  it !  "  interrupted  Tonstain  glibly. 

"Aye,  and  seen  it  with  your  eyes,"  insisted  the 
old  man.  "  In  Gersay  here  I  stand  for  the  Duke 
himself.  In  the  old  Count's  time,  when  you  were 
young  and  journeying  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  I 
was  his  chief  counsellor  and  friend.  With  this 


CRITICS  OF  ELD.  27 

Karadac  I  hold  but  slight  authority.  He  acts  not 
on  my  counsels  but  his  own.  The  times  are  sadly 
changed,  Tonstain,  I  rule  no  longer — I  obey." 

"  Karadac  is  his  own  man,  truly,"  said  the  other 
as  if  he  mused. 

"  He  hearkens  to  me  with  his  grave  face,  and  he 
will  own  he  lacks  experience,  but  he  lives  and 
thinks  alone — except  of  late.  Goyault  of  Gros- 
Nez,  since  he  returned  full  of  adventures  from 
across  the  seas,  has  won  much  upon  the  Count." 

"You  should  find  the  Count  a  wife."  Tonstain's 
glance  fell  slily  on  the  disquiet  face,  whose  hundred 
monkey  wrinkles  creased  together  more  closely  at 
the  words. 

"That  I  cannot.  He  is  hard  to  understand.  Of 
late  he  has  been  light  of  love,  yet  all  his  youth  was 
stainless.  There  are  noble  ladies  he  might  win 
whose  tendance  and  whose  tenderness  would  draw 
him  home  from  these  strange  wanderings  in  the 
hills.  But  no — he  will  not,  no !  "  He  shook  his 
head  again  despondingly. 

"  What  think  you  of  this  message  from  Gren- 
ezay  ?  Will  he  go  forth  upon  this  English  damsel's 
quest?" 

"As  like  as  not — as  like  as  not!  I  will  advise 
him  to  stay  safe  at  home.  I  doubt  the  issue.  For 
it  will  anger  Duke  William  when  he  hears  that 
Karadac  has  gone  to  fight  the  knight  of  Morlaix 
for  some  vagrant  Saxon  slut !  " 

"  Have  you  seen  the  picture,  Sir  Drogo  ?    The 


28  CRITICS  OF  ELD. 

damsel  is  very  beautiful,  and  Karadac,  for  all  his 
solitary  communings  and  lone  ventures,  is  a 
man." 

"  Yes,  but  she  is  smirched  with  witchcraft,  and 
he  is  proud." 

"  Whom  would  you  have  him  wed  ?  " 

"  A  lady  of  his  blood  and  land,  one  that  we  know 
and  love. — Pah,  these  foolish  quests  !  "  He  sat 
down  as  one  wearied  in  an  embrasure  of  the  par- 
apets, and  looked  up  with  narrowed  eyelids  sus- 
piciously at  his  companion.  "You  are  but  acting 
innocence,  Tonstain.  You  know  poor  Gundred's 
secret  like  the  rest ;  the  only  one  unheedful  is  the 
Count.  There  is  the  Count's  true  mate,  born  of  the 
land.  She  is  my  daughter,  but  her  blood  is  royal 
and  her  face  is  not  less  fair  than  this  beglamouring 
Algitha's." 

"  As  you  say,  the  Count  is  unheeding,"  repeated 
Tonstain  blandly. 

Barantin  veered  as  was  much  his  wont  from  one 
position  to  another.  He  would  trust  and  distrust 
in  five  minutes'  space.  To  the  instinct  of  a  buf- 
foon's sagacity  he  joined  an  unstable  will,  which 
drove  him  to  put  foolish  faith  in  half-suspected 
foes,  and  to  seek  help  from  hands  he  hated. 

"  Will  you  be  her  advocate,  Tonstain,  for  you 
are  master  of  strange  knowledge  ?  "  he  said  peer- 
ingly ;  "  will  you  be  the  man  to  open  Karadac's 
eyes  ?  " 

"  Or  shut  them,"  thought  Tonstain  with  malicious 


CRITICS  OF  ELD.  29 

humour,  for  Gundred  had  not  that  which  is  every 
woman's  right  and  without  which  she  goes  beg- 
gared all  her  days.  Aloud  he  answered  :  "  Karadac's 
humour  is  not  to  be  counted  on,  but  should  occa- 
sion offer  I  will  do  what  I  may." 

How  he  was  to  carry  out  his  promise  in  the 
future  was  hidden  even  from  Tonstain's  far-seeing 
eyes.  He  loved  to  make  a  mock  of  human  nature, 
watching  its  play  of  passion  with  a  cold  and  scoffing 
interest ;  he  lived  at  secondhand,  dissecting  his  fel- 
lows' souls,  and  pleased  to  hug  himself  in  self- 
content  while  hearts  would  ache  or  break  under  the 
strain  of  the  remorselessness  of  life.  Sometimes  he 
set  himself  to  set  his  world  at  odds,  that  he  might 
fill  his  leisure  with  the  stress  of  others'  loves  and 
hates,  their  envyings,  strugglings,  their  disappoint- 
ments, and  despairs.  The  agony  of  that  battle  was 
to  him  a  mimic  tilt  from  which  he  drew  pastime, 
and  a  secret  cause  for  smiles,  nor  was  it  all  for  pas- 
time either,  since  he  was  not  slow  to  see  and  seek 
advantage,  whoever  lost  the  game. 

Tonstain  leaned  upon  the  parapet.  He  wore  a 
flowing  robe,  and  the  wind  flicked  about  its  sel- 
vedges. He  drew  his  wide  sleeves  closer  as  he 
leaned  out  to  gaze  upon  the  smooth  slopes  of 
sward  that  lay  below  the  curving  curtain  of  the 
castle  walls. 

"  Here  comes  a  rider.  See,  it  is  Sir  Goyault,"  he 
said. 

"  What  ? — Is  not  the  Count  with  him  ?     Does  he 


30  CRITICS  OF  ELD. 

ride  alone?"  The  Sieur  de  Barantin  rose  with  a 
troubled  air. 

"  Perchance  he  follows.  Let  us  look  across  the 
marshes,"  said  Tonstain,  and  led  the  way  by  the  un- 
even stone  footing  round  the  battlements  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  tower,  whence  they  could  over- 
look leagues  of  sand  and  swamp  and  shallow. 

Close  at  the  cliffs'  foot  clustered  the  hamlet  of 
Gouray,  and  beyond  the  coast-line  trending  south 
lay  between  high-backed  ridges  and  the  sea  a  vast 
waste  of  weedy  flats  broken  by  stretches  of  pale 
sand  and  patched  with  rocks  and  beds  of  heavy 
reeds,  and  glittering  wind-blown  pools,  where  the 
sweet  water  of  the  land  drained  through  and  spoilt 
its  virtue  in  the  brackish  flow. 

On  the  far  sea-rim  the  tide  was  rising,  marked  by 
a  white  wavering  line  of  birds.  Barantin  raised  his 
hand  to  shade  his  eyes  and  searched  the  empty  levels. 

"  I  see  no  one  there,"  he  said  at  last. 

But  Tonstain  under  the  edges  of  his  flat  cap  saw 
a  struggling  atom  in  the  distance. 

"  Is  there  danger  on  the  flats  now,  Drogo?  "  he 
asked. 

"  You  are  of  Grouville  and  do  not  know  !  The 
water  rises  fast  as  any  horse  can  gallop." 

Tonstain  met  the  scornful  question  with  a  smile. 
"  I  see  a  rider  who  knows  his  danger  and  who  rides 
at  haste.  He  comes  from  St.  Clement's.  Perhaps 
Karadac  if  he  has  been  at  the  hermitage  with  the 
recluse?  " 


CRITICS  OF  ELD.  31 

De  Barantin  clicked  his  tongue  derisively. 

"  Recluse  !  "  cried  he.  "  Had  you  seen  Anne  of 
Rozel,  or  that  French  minx  Yvoine,  you  would  not 
tell  me  of  recluses  !  La,  la,  la,  when  Karadac  rides 
forth  gorse-blossoms  are  in  season — aye,  and  kisses 
too!" 

"  I  had  not  thought  him  such  a  one,"  replied  the 
other. 

Tonstain  halted  at  the  word  as  he  was  about  to 
descend  the  winding  stair. 

"  Nor  I,  nor  I  myself,  but  he  has  proved  it  once 
and  again  of  late.  Do  not  forget  our  compact, 
Tonstain  ;  I  will  find  means  to  pay  you  back  in 
full.  Speak  if  occasion  offers  to  Karadac.  For 
though  he  scatter  kisses  here  or  there,  a  wife — 
mind  you,  a  wife, — it  would  give  me  some  hold 
upon  him.  Gundred  too — "  and  so  muttering  he 
went  into  the  darkness  of  the  tower  stair. 

The  seigneur  of  Grouville  waited  until  the  slow 
footsteps  died  away  in  silence,  then  he  turned  his 
face  skywards  and  laughed  at  the  mounting  sun  as 
though  the  upper  heaven  were  his  confidant. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  GREAT  QUESTION. 

GOYAULT  SEIGNEUR  OF  GROS-NEZ  made  no 
haste  to  appear  in  the  great  hall  of  the  castle  of 
Mont  Orgueil,  although  the  fluster  and  the  whisper 
of  strange  news  from  Grenezay  had  passed  through 
the  courtyards  and  the  dim  corridors.  The  Count 
was  absent,  none  knew  where,  and  Barantin,  lord  of 
Rozel,  to  whom  in  lieu  of  the  Count  he  must  other- 
wise have  presented  himself,  was  said  to  be  en- 
grossed in  considering  the  message  which  the 
newly-arrived  herald  had  brought  from  the  neigh- 
bouring island. 

Goyault's  horse  was  tired,  his  armour  had  lost  a 
rivet,  and  to  both  these  matters  he  attended  before 
he  crossed  the  green  steep  of  sward,  and  passing  up 
under  the  second  portcullis  mounted  a  rocky  way 
eased  by  stone  steps  in  the  steeper  places  that  led 
him  to  the  hall.  His  entrance  was  greeted  with  a 
shout  and  the  crowd  rallied  round  him  telling  tid- 
ings of  some  famous  jousts,  when  or  where  to  be 
held  no  one  could  say.  Vague  rumours  from  who 
knew  what  source  had  reached  them,  no  news  that 
was  assured,  but  enough  to  raise  idle  expectations 
to  the  highest. 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION.  33 

At  first  a  hundred  questions  assailed  Goyault,  and 
eager  hands  plucked  at  his  tunic  sleeves,  but  to  all 
he  answered  truly  that  he  knew  nothing  and  added 
here  and  there  some  jest,  at  which  they  laughed,  and 
still  they  crowded  round  him,  for  Goyault,  whether 
he  carried  news  or  no,  was  always  a  chief  favourite 
with  his  kind. 

A  face  fine-cut  and  souled  with  chivalrous  eyes 
crowned  the  perfection  of  his  shape.  Those  eyes 
were  fair  and  clear  and  of  a  blue  that  flashed  and 
lightened  in  his  rage,  but  for  the  most  part  laughter 
dwelt  in  them,  and  those  who  saw  it  would  love  the 
man  unawares.  He  had  wandered  far  in  England 
and  in  France,  and  stories  of  his  prowess,  carried 
home  by  minstrels  to  the  Gersay  castle,  were  greed- 
ily believed.  For  Goyault  had  been  born  in  some 
happy  hour  when  envy  slept  and  only  love  awaked. 

The  talk  in  the  hall  swung  on  between  question 
and  reply.  Some  said  the  herald  carried  somewhat 
on  his  saddlebow.  A  picture  ? — No,  no,  that  could 
not  be ! — though  young  Guille  de  Samarez  vowed 
that  it  was  so  and  he  would  take  his  oath  of  it. 

Apart  from  all  the  laughter  and  surmise  a  lady 
stood  at  the  upper  end  of  the  hall,  Gundred  de  Ba- 
rantin,  alone — she  always  seemed  alone — and  silent, 
sad  with  distant  thoughts  excepting  when  the 
Count  was  by.  She  was  a  woman  tall,  harsh- 
featured,  bitter-black,  in  whose  face  love  battled 
pitifully  with  a  certain  shame  and  agony  of  pride. 

Across  the  throng  her  eyes  caught  Goyault's,  and 


34  THE  GREAT  QUESTION. 

he  read  a  summons  in  them.  Breaking  from  his 
friends  he  reached  her  side. 

"  Would  you  not  hear  the  truth  about  these 
jousts  ?  "  she  asked  in  her  strange  utterance,  sweet- 
toned  but  thick  and  stumbling. 

"  Yes,  if  I  ride  thither,"  he  replied,  smiling. 

"  I  think  you  will  ride  thither,  and  perhaps  the 
Count.  But  you,  yes,  you  must  go  because — " 

Goyault  moved  his  shoulders  carelessly. 

"Why  must  I  go?" 

"  Shall  I  show  you  why  ?  "  she  answered.  "  Fol- 
low me." 

He  took  her  hand,  the  long  brown  slender  hand 
he  knew  that  one  man  hated,  and  led  her  from  the 
hall.  At  the  door  of  the  castle  chapel  she  stopped. 

"  Goyault,"  she  said,  struggling  for  clear  speech, 
"  Goyault,  listen.  This  day's  business  means  much 
to  you  and  me." 

He  dropped  her  hand. 

"  Lady,  you  love  the  shadow  and  I  love  the 
light." 

"  Nay,  I  live  in  the  shadow  yearning  for  the  light. 
— It  is  an  unhappy  lot  ;  I  would  not  have  you  share 
it.  Yet  the  stars  have  said  our  fates  are  knitted 
close." 

Goyault's  brow  clouded  and  he  crossed  himself. 

"  The  saints  forefend  !  "  he  muttered.  "  What 
of  this  herald  and  his  message?" 

"  He  has  come  across  the  sea  from  Grenezay  to 
bring  the  picture — " 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION.  35 

"  Then  Guille  de  Samarez  was  right — there  is  a 
picture  ?  " 

"  In  the  chapel  here."  She  pushed  open  the  door 
and  entered,  but  turning  on  the  threshold  walked 
beside  him  to  where,  raised  upon  a  settle  by  a  pillar, 
the  picture  faced  a  narrow  window. 

Goyault  stood  silent  before  it.  And  that  which 
is  the  sweetest  and  fiercest  in  man's  life  swept 
through  him.  For  two  long  years  he  had  not  seen 
her  face,  tmd  now  she  seemed  to  stand  within  the 
reach  of  his  arms.  A  storm  of  feeling  shook  him 
like  a  reed.  In  his  heart  was  he  not  always  dream- 
ing of  this  girl,  whose  eyes  held  some  wistful  ques- 
tion, and  to  whom  the  man  and  knight  within  him 
had  gone  forth  irrevocably  when  he  had  seen  her,  a 
shy  young  slip  of  maidenhood,  in  her  father's  tent  on 
the  English  shore. 

"You  know  her?"  Gundred's  voice  fell  as  a 
hand  falls  on  a  sleeper's  arm. 

Goyault  started  with  a  quick  sense  of  danger, 
then  he  turned  his  head  and  looked  at  her  across 
his  shoulder  with  a  smile. 

"  I  have  seen  her,"  he  said. 

"  Is  not  this  that  Algitha  of  whom  you  told  me 
once  ? — You  men  with  your  full  lives  forget  the  very 
words  you  speak,  but  women  who  drag  out  dull, 
empty  lives  at  home  remember.  This  is  the  Lady 
Algitha,  daughter  of  Algar,  whom  two  summers 
past  you  swore  to  wed  when  she  should  be  grown 
to  womanhood." 


36  THE  GREAT  QUESTION. 

A  dark  colour  stained  the  sunburn  of  his  cheek 

"  What  of  her  ?  "  he  said  shortly. 
"  I  will  not  harass  you  with  delay,  because  I  see 
your  heart  is  in  the  matter,"  returned  the  woman 
gently.  "  She  would  not  mate  with  Gauthier  de 
Morlaix,  and  he  now  accuses  her  of  witchcraft  where- 
by he  cannot  choose  but  love  her  still,  although  the 
man  is  sick  of  love." 

"  She  needs  a  champion  ? — I  will  go !  "  He 
sprang  half-way  across  the  floor. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  the  rigid  muscles  of  his 
arm. 

"  Wait  a  while.  In  her  own  land  none  will  de- 
fend her  cause.  She  is  a  witch,  they  say." 

Goyault  laughed  again  contemptuously. 

"  She  is  beautiful — that  is  all  her  witchcraft !  " 

"  I  can  well  believe  it,"  said  the  woman  mourn- 
fully, and  she  like  Goyault  dwelt  upon  the  pictured 
face.  "  But  what  of  the  Count  ?  The  message 
is  for  him." 

"  He  will  give  me  the  errand.  Karadac  loves  no 
woman." 

"  I  pray  Heaven  it  may  be  so  !  " 

"  You  have  heard  more  ? — What  is  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered  heavily ;  "  my  heart  mis- 
gives me.  That  is  all." 

A  strange  new  pity  pierced  him.  This  it  was  to 
love  in  vain.  To  tremble  at  a  glance,  to  ache  in 
secret  for  a  word,  to  be  the  mock  of  grinning  fools, 
live  in  despair,  and  to  die  abhorred ! 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION.  37 

Gundred  had  moved  forward  and  stood  beside 
the  picture.  The  same  light  fell  on  both,  and 
Goyault's  gaze  turning  in  pity  from  the  lovely 
semblance  to  the  breathing  woman  changed.  Un- 
wittingly Gundred  had  challenged  comparison  with 
one  who  was  so  fair  that  all  men  loved  her.  A 
quick  disgust  divided  pity  upon  Goyault's  face, 
and  Gundred,  turning,  saw.  The  sight  stabbed  her 
with  remembrance  :  she  had  read  the  same  harsh 
thought  in  other  eyes,  those  dear,  estranged  eyes 
that  were  the  Count's. 

Then  all  her  pent-up  misery  broke  out  in  side- 
long questionings. 

"  What  is  man's  love,  Goyault  ?  Answer  me  ! 
What  is  it  you  love  ?  Is  it  the  girl  ? — or  is  it  not 
her  mouth,  her  eyes,  her  shape  ? — Which  is  it 
then  ?  " 

Goyault  paused.  This  was  love  too,  this  swift 
and  galling  anger  that  wrung  the  lips  which  uttered 
it. 

"  The  whole,"  he  answered  kindly  enough. 
"  The  one  sweet  element  supports  another ;  each 
adds  to  each,  and  they  are  indivisible.  Without 
those  tender  lips  she  would  not  be  herself  :  without 
that  wistful  look  I  carry  in  my  heart,  she  would  not 
be  herself.  It  is  the  whole  we  love,  the  whole 
most  blessed  embodiment  and  soul.  It  is  herself 
we  love.  Would  you  dissolve  her  into  parts  for 
judgment  ?  That  is  not  to  love  !  " 

Gundred  smiled  the  thin,  hard  smile  of  scorn. 


38  THE  GREAT  QUESTION. 

"  If  she  were  marred  ?  "  she  asked,  and  paused 
upon  the  question. 

"  Marred  ? — Now  God  forefend  !  " 

"  Aye,  God  forefend !  "  she  echoed  gently. 
"  Such  loveliness  is  rare.  But  answer,  Goyault.  If 
she  but  stumbled  in  the  fire  face  downwards  and 
lost  her  beauty  in  the  flames.  Or  if  she  were  struck 
with  that  foul  sickness  that  sears  the  face  and 
blinds  the  eyes  of  many — would  you  love  her  then  ? 
— love  her  soul  if  this  delicate  sheath  were  spoilt 
by  sickness  or  some  mischance?  " 

Goyault  pondered. 

"  It  could  not  be  !  "  he  said  at  last,  and  shud- 
dered. "  It  is  unimaginable  !  " 

Gundred's  grave  eyes  still  held  him. 

"  That  is  no  answer.     Answer  me." 

Goyault's  pity  was  worn  out,  his  patience  almost 
ended.  He  turned  roughly  from  her,  and  leaning 
his  arm  against  the  wall  looked  through  the  lancet 
window  at  the  sea  beneath  it,  blue  as  the  eyes  he 
loved  and  rippling  into  a  hundred  changes  like 
those  same  eyes.  Gundred  waited,  to  her  own  hurt, 
for  she  had  power  to  read  the  minds  of  men.  She 
knew  this  Goyault  with  all  his  noble  strengths  and 
noble  weaknesses.  She  watched  the  clustering 
circlet  of  auburn  curls  close-ringed  on  his  neck,  and 
waited  for  her  answer.  Presently  his  light  wrath 
spent  itself,  and  he  put  his  shoulder  to  the  wall  and 
leaning  there  answered. 

"  Men  are  not  angels.     This  world    is  ruled    by 


THE  GREAT  QUESTION.  39 

flesh — the  monks  would  tell  you  so.  Hereafter — 
who  knows  ?  Be  not  too  curious,  Gundred  ;  take 
love  and  give  Heaven  thanks." 

"  Why  does  man  love  woman  ?  "  she  importuned 
him  still. 

Goyault's  foot  moved  restlessly.  Worse  than  a 
gnat  was  Gundred  with  her  stinging  doubts.  Un- 
lovable with  all  her  wealth  of  love.  It  was  her 
wont  to  touch  the  mind  with  misgivings  that  would 
not  be  allayed  and  yet  could  find  no  satisfying  an- 
swer. 

"Why?"  he  returned.  "Because  he  must,  in 
truth !  "  and  laughed. 

"  And  why  does  woman  love  man  ?  " 

"  Because  she  will,  no  doubt." 

"  No,  Goyault.  Love,  who  will  not  be  compelled, 
compels  us,  man  and  woman  alike.  We  love,  not 
because  we  will,  but  because  we  must.  The  differ- 
ence lies  in  this — that  women  love  the  unseen  quali- 
ties of  the  soul,  and,  whole  or  marred  the  man, 
could  love  him  still — aye,  and  perhaps  the  dearer 
were  he  scathed  in  some  sore  fight  or  sickness. 
And  in  return  you  love  but  what  you  see,  the  out- 
ward guise,  look,  colour,  the  perishable  qualities  of 
the  clay ;  no  more — no  deeper  goes  your  love. 
Here  meet  together  life's  two  great  miscounts  that 
make  for  pain  and  woe,  for  add  them  as  you  may 
they  cannot  balance  fair,  the  one  so  far  outsums  the 
other." 

"  Not  so,  Gundred.     Even   in   men,  believe  me, 


40  THE  GREAT  QUESTION. 

there  is  less  of  earth  than  you  would  answer  for  to- 
day. Prove  a  man's  love  before  you  tell  its  score 
so  certainly!  Is  it  not  true  that  we  can  sorrow  if 
we  lose  ?  Since  all  of  earth  is  gone  for  ever  in  the 
loss  of  death,  and  we  love  on,  is  it  not  thus  evident 
we  love  the  unseen  with  the  seen  ?  Have  you 
never  heard  of  men  who  loved  but  once?  " 

"  A  great  sorrow  chastens, — "  Gundred  began,  but 
he  broke  in  : 

"  A  great  sorrow  is  often  only  another  name  for  a 
great  constancy,"  he  said. 

"  Then  you  could  love  the  soul  ?  Is  that  what 
you  would  say  ? — Nay,  more — that  you  do  love 
the  soul  of  this  fair  Algitha  of  yours  ?  If  that  be 
so,  Goyault,  were  her  soul  in  my  body,  you  could 
love  her  still?"  She  seemed  to  scourge  him  with 
the  words,  and  hung  upon  his  answer,  all  her  face 
gone  darkly  drawn  and  pale. 

Goyault  sprang  upright ;  she  had  driven  home 
her  argument.  He  looked  at  her  from  feet  to  head, 
the  gaunt  form  and  sad,  ill-pleasing  countenance. 

"  Lady  Gundred — "  he  stammered,  but  a  horror 
grew  within  his  eyes. 

"  No  more — no  more,"  she  wailed,  and  covered 
up  her  face,  "  for  bitterly  you  have  answered  me," 
and  in  a  storm  of  tears  she  left  him. 


CHAPTER  V. 
\ 

LOVE'S   OATH. 

GUNDRED  was  gone,  but  Goyault  still  lingered  in 
the  chapel.  Not  to  look  upon  the  presentment  of 
his  love  but  burdened  with  misgivings  and  full  of 
thoughts  to  which  he  found  no  clear  solution.  To 
love  was  his,  but  to  love  worthily,  was  that  his  too? 
He  knew  no  answer  to  allay  the  newly-bitten  doubt. 
He  had  kept  the  image  of  Algitha,  the  Saxon  maid, 
pure  within  his  heart  these  two  long  years,  but  only 
lapse  of  time  could  prove  him  steadfast  to  that 
loyalty.  Algitha  and  Gundred,  Gundred  and  Al- 
githa, the  two  names  tossed  about  upon  the  surface 
of  his  consciousness ;  and  all  that  they  betokened 
worked  in  a  bewildering  contest  in  his  brain. 

What  was  it  that  he  loved  ?  The  beauty  of  Al- 
githa ?  Then  he  pondered  upon  Gundred.  Apart 
from  outward  seeming  was  she  not  beautiful  ?  Aye 
was  she !  A  great  and  gracious  soul  dwelt  locked 
within  that  bodily  prison.  Oh,  crudest  fate  !  Yet 
surely  some  man  might  learn  to  love  her.  For  him- 
self ? — No,  for  ever  no  !  She  was  good  perhaps, 
noble  perhaps,  and  true  most  certainly.  She  pos- 
sessed everything  but  the  one  gift  of  beauty: 
Beauty  that  filled  the  eyes  and  won  the  heart  and 


42  LOVE'S  OATH. 

drove  men  desperate  !  Goyault  flung  up  his  droop- 
ing head.  Happier  far  for  Gundred  had  she  been 
dowered  with  the  birthright  of  a  fair  presence  and 
lacked  all  else !  Fair  without  a  woman  must  be. 
Fair  within  ? — pray  heaven  send  it !  But  loveli- 
ness ? — the  very  heart  in  him  cried  out  for  loveli- 
ness. Else — and  Goyault  smote  his  breast,  but  if  it 
were  in  pride  or  penitence  who  can  tell  ? — and  swore 
that  without  it  he  at  least  could  never  love. 

With  that  a  new  thought  woke.  Where  was  the 
Count  ?  Would  he  were  come  !  Then  Goyault  slowly 
left  the  chapel  and  went  out  upon  the  causeway, 
and  lingered  there  until  a  clatter  and  a  calling  down 
below  told  him  that  Karadac  had  ridden  home  and 
all  the  castle  had  gone  forth  to  meet  him  and  to 
hear  the  news.  But  the  hunger  for  solitude  being 
upon  Goyault,  he  turned  aside,  and  passing  through 
a  little  wicket  gate  between  the  grey  rough  walls  he 
came  upon  an  open  space  of  turf  and  brambles  and 
wild  roses  blowing  in  the  soft  June  wind.  From 
there  he  listened  for  the  tramp  of  many  feet  and 
murmuring  of  voices  as  they  brought  the  Count  to 
see  the  picture  in  the  chapel  and  to  hear  the  story 
of  the  Lady  Algitha.  Presently  they  climbed  up- 
wards, many  curious  footsteps  following  upon  the 
Count's,  but  all  voices  silent,  save  only  the  cracked 
chattering  of  old  Drogo  de  Barantin,  with  Ton- 
stain's  smooth  cadenced  tones,  and  here  and  there, 
isolated  as  his  own  life,  the  deep  answers  of  Count 
Karadac. 


LOVE'S  OATH.  43 

Afterwards  it  seemed  to  Goyault  a  long  time  be- 
fore he  heard  the  voices  come  again  into  the  air. 
And  at  once  the  Count  called  aloud : 

"  Goyault,  where  is  he  ?  " 

Goyault  threw  back  the  little  gate  and  stood  re- 
luctant in  the  opening. 

Karadac  looked  up  and  his  voice  rang  as  since 
his  boyhood  none  had  heard  it  ring. 

"  Stay,  Goyault,  for  I  would  talk  with  you." 
And  so  dismissing  those  who  crowded  on  him,  he 
sprang  up  along  the  steep  and  followed  Goyault 
through  the  gate. 

Karadac's  eyes  were  alight ;  something  of  his  su- 
perb gravity  was  gone.  He  took  Goyault  by  the 
shoulders. 

"  What  say  you  to  an  adventure,  Goyault  ? — an 
adventure  across  the  sea." 

"  I  am  always  willing,  as  my  lord  knows." 

"  Yes,  always  willing,  that  is  like  you  ! — But  you 
are  sad  ?  " 

Yes,  and  more;  Goyault  knew  a  sudden  fear.  It 
seemed  the  flame  of  happiness  that  burned  in 
Karadac's  black  eyes.  What  could  it  mean  ? — a 
sudden  joyousness  in  his  stern  and  stately,  often 
listless  lord?  What  had  the  Count  to  tell  him? 
Good  or  bad  ?  The  best  would  be  that  Karadac,  in 
some  lone  wandering,  had  met  with  love :  the 
worst — he  could  not  say  it  even  to  himself. 

"  Whither  do  we  go  ?  "  he  asked  aloud. 

"  But,    Goyault,    you    are   sad — this   sunny    day 


44  LOVE'S  OATH. 

when  all  the  land  and  breeze  and  sea  should  shout 
together  for  gladsomeness  of  heart !  " 

Goyault  turned  away.  The  Count's  gaze  was 
strong  and  seemed  to  pierce  the  thoughts. 

"  Have  I  not  seen  you,  lord,  sad  on  many  a 
sunny  day?  "  he  returned  half-smiling. 

Karadac  stopped  short  in  his  laughter.  A  shadow 
fled  racing  over  marsh  and  upland,  and  fell  across 
them  standing  there  upon  the  castle  height.  The 
Count  looked  up  and  shook  himself  as  if  he  would 
shake  the  chill  from  off  the  golden  afternoon. 

"  Aye,  you  have  seen  me  sad,  but  sad  again  I 
shall  never  be  until  my  life  is  blotted  out  from  this 
fair  earth !  "  He  watched  the  cloud,  and  as  it 
passed  and  left  the  sunshine  warm  upon  them  he 
went  on :  "  Goyault,  you  are  my  friend." 

"  More  than  that.  I  owe  you  all,  my  life,  my 
lands — all  that  I  live  for,  you  have  given  me  !  " 
cried  Goyault,  and  for  the  first  time  in  their  friend- 
ship the  spur  of  that  remembrance  galled  him. 

"  I  gave  you  your  inheritance,  that  was  all." 

"  Without  your  aid  it  could  never  have  been 
mine.  My  enemies — of  my  own  house — " 

"Well,  they  are  dead." 

"Yet  I  would  not  forget,"  said  Goyault  with  a 
passion  in  the  words. 

"  Let  it  rest.  You  are  my  friend,"  the  Count  re- 
peated, "  and  you  must  rejoice  with  me.  After 
long  years  at  length  I  am  at  rest  from  all  my  doubt- 
ings,  Goyault." 


LOVE'S  OATH.  45 

"  I  am  glad,  lord." 

The  Count  paused  and  when  he  spoke  again  it 
was  in  his  old  sad  voice  of  self-communing  which 
Goyault  had  learnt  to  know  during  the  many  lonely 
hours  they  had  shared  : 

"  Where  shall  rest  be  found — satisfaction  for  the 
spirit's  thirst  and  peace? — The  question  woke  in 
me  when  I  was  a  boy.  You  of  all  men  know  my 
sorrows.  I  have  hungered  for  happiness  as  other 
men  for  fame  and  greatness,  which  are  lesser  things 
and  cannot  stay  the  soul.  Power  I  was  born  to ; 
for  that  cause  I  stand  apart  from  other  men,  gulfed 
round  by  lordship.  Learning  turned  to  husks  upon 
my  lips  when  manhood  woke  in  me.  War  and  the 
chase? — Brute  beasts  we  are  who  fight  and  tear 
each  other's  throats  for  lust  of  mastery.  Yes,  yes, 
I  know ;  the  blood  runs  strong  amidst  the  glory  of 
the  crash,  the  struggle  and  the  stroke,  when  eye 
and  hand  are  swift  and  sure  and  the  hot  brain  re- 
joices in  their  vigour !  I  have  felt  that  too,  but  by 
the  time  the  next  sun  rises  all  is  gone  !  Where  is 
the  pride  of  yesterday  ?  Vanished  like  the  smoke 
of  a  dead  fire ! — And  last  I  turned  to  love.  But 
loves  were  false  and  venal,  bought  kisses  on  stained 
lips  !  And  at  the  best  they  wearied  me,  fair  forms 
with  spurious  souls.  But  now,  Goyault — "  the 
Count  smiled  and  hesitated  to  pronounce  his  hap- 
piness— "  now  the  end  has  come  to  all  my  doubt- 
ings,  my  longings,  and  my  fears.  I  am  at  rest ;  I 
have  found  her  for  whom  I  have  so  blindly  sought 
these  many  years  !  " 


46  LOVE'S  OATH. 

Then  Karadac  told  tfre  tale  of  the  picture  and 
the  adventure  that  it  carried  in  burning  words,  and 
as  he  listened  Goyault's  heart  grew  big  and  throbbed 
more  daringly  in  his  breast.  The  light  died  out  of 
his  blue  eyes,  but  in  his  mind  it  lit  rebellion. 
The  Count  loved,  and  Goyault  loved.  Were  they 
not  man  and  man  ? — And  then  some  echo  would 
awake  of  Karadac's  sad  and  brooding  spirit,  and  all 
he,  Goyault,  owed  to  him.  Could  he  add  to  that 
intrinsic  sadness? — Yet  what  of  it?  Love  levels 
circumstance  and  all.  A  broken  life,  be  it  of  serf 
or  king,  writes  beggary  across  the  empty  future 
days.  All  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  love. 

"There  are  but  four  days  left.  We  start  for 
Gros-Nez  to-night,  and  thence  from  some  wind- 
favoured  bay  to  Grenezay.  Goyault,  my  friend, 
will  you  not  sail  with  me  ?  I  pray  this  service  of 
you."  Karadac's  voice  fell  on  ears  that  scarcely 
heard. 

Goyault  hesitated,  searching  in  his  mind  for  the 
echo  of  the  Count's  question. 

"  To  Grenezay,  Seigneur?  " 

"Aye,  and  I  crave  a  further  service  of  you. 
Would  you  fight  for  her?  Swear  here  to  me  you 
will  defend  her  if  I  fall  as  though  she  already  were 
my  wife,  the  wife  of  your  overlord." 

There  was  a  little  silence  during  which  Goyault 
was  torn  this  way  and  that. 

"  Fight  for  her  ?     To  the  death  !  " 

"  Then  listen,  Goyault.     She  has  sent  a  summons 


LOVE'S  OATH.  47 

and  I  go  to  aid  her.  Within  the  month  it  may  be 
she  will  stand  here  beside  me,  my  queen ! "  He 
stretched  out  his  arms  and  all  the  sweet  sounds  and 
scents  of  summer  answered  his  full  heart  in  that 
delicious  moment  of  young  ecstasy :  he  gathered 
them  inwards  to  his  breast  as  a  man  folds  his  dear- 
est close  and  sighed.  "  How  have  I  hitherto  lived 
my  life  ! — But  half  a  life,  like  some  poor  bird  whose 
wings  are  clipped  from  birth  so  that  he  never  knows 
what  'tis  to  soar  against  the  sun  !  " 

He  stood  tall  and  dark  and  noble  in  Goyault's 
sight,  his  eagle  face  and  eyes  outlooking  from  his 
eyrie.  All  that  he  gazed  upon  was  his.  A  peerless 
warrior  and  a  peerless  chief.  Then  seeing  this 
pondered,  will  she  not  love  him  ?  So  the  thought 
grew  upon  Goyault  and  his  heart  turned  sick  within 
him. 

"  I  would,  Goyault,  there  were  some  fair  lady 
coming  to  Gros-Nez  that  on  one  happy  summer  day 
we  both  should  wed,  thou  and  I." 

Goyault  frowned  and  shook  himself  as  if  he 
would  shake  the  suggestion  from  him,  and  turning 
found  the  Count  gravely  watching  him  with  the 
kind  eyes  of  friendship.  Goyault  essayed  to  speak, 
and  then  fell  back  on  silence,  saying  to  himself: 
"  I  will  tell  him  when  we  see  the  cliffs  of  Grenezay." 

"  Nay,  Goyault,  who  knows  ?  "  The  Count  spoke 
softly,  following  his  own  thought.  "  This  Gauthier 
of  Morlaix,  you  have  seen  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  in   England.     He  is  a  great  knight  and  a 


48  LOVE'S  OATH. 

most  savage  tilter.  Men  said  that  none  could  stand 
before  him." 

"Aye,  so  men  say,  but  we  shall  prove  they  lie." 

"  He  jousted  in  a  tournament  at  York,  and  in  one 
rush  met  two  young  knights.  It  was  their  first 
shock — and  their  last." 

"  Had  he  the  strength  of  ten  men,  I  would  over- 
throw him  !  "  Karadac  sighed  again  in  rapture. 

"  The  picture,  have  you  seen  it  ?  "  asked  Karadac 
when  his  radiant  thoughts  had  spent  themselves. 

And  on  that  by  some  blank  chance  Goyault  lied. 
He  knew  not  why  nor  what  had  prompted  him  to 
such  a  base  denial.  Thus  it  began — thus  it  began  ; 
he  wove  with  his  own  tongue  the  first  meshes  of 
the  net  that  was  to  hold  his  feet  so  fast  in  those  sad 
days  to  come. 

"Then  follow  me." 

By  this  the  chapel  had  grown  obscure,  lit  only 
with  dim  evening,  for  the  shadows  gathered  early 
to  the  north,  but  some  prying  hand  had  brought  a 
lantern  and  laid  it  by  the  picture.  But  to  the  eyes 
that  dwelt  upon  her,  the  damsel  shone  out  with  the 
clear  lustre  of  her  own  beauty  on  the  dusk. 

"  Is  she  not  wonderful  ?  "  Karadac's  voice  was 
hushed. 

And  Goyault's  heart  made  reply  but  not  in  speech. 

"  Do  not  her  eyes  speak  to  you  ?  "  went  on  the 
Count. 

"  I  think  that  they  would  speak  to  all  men." 
Goyault's  answer  half  derided,  but  the  Count  heeded 
not. 


LOVE'S  OATH.  49 

"  Yes,  she  is  fair,"  Karadac  went  on  in  rapt  agree- 
ment. 

And  the  other  raged  silently  to  hear  her  praises 
on  his  rival's  tongue. 

"  Hear  me  now,  Goyault.  This  one  maiden  of  all 
maidens  do  I  love.  This  one  maiden  of  all  maidens 
will  I  wed.  You  bear  me  witness?  " 

"Aye,"  said  Goyault,  and  the  word  choked  him. 

Then  the  Count  fell  into  the  silence  of  his 
thoughts,  and  all  the  while  Goyault  was  torn  this 
way  and  that,  raging,  yet  doomed  to  dumbness  by 
the  foolish  denial  he  had  spoken  among  the  roses 
in  the  sunshine  on  the  castle  crest  when  the  Count 
asked  him  had  he  seen  the  presentment  of  his  love. 
Then  spoke  Karadac  once  more,  baring  his  sword, 
and  in  the  transport  of  the  moment  he  brandished  it. 

"  Come,  swear,  Goyault,  swear  with  me,"  he  cried. 

And  for  the  first  time  that  day  willingly  Goyault 
obeyed.  He  drew  his  sword,  and  as  he  drew  it  a 
little  wind  of  evening  made  a  moan  within  the 
slitted  window.  So  the  Count  flung  out  his  blade 
and  Goyault's  crossed  upon  it — two  shafts  of  silver 
light  that  gleamed  a  second  on  the  vaulted  roof. 

"  I,  Karadac,  Count  of  Gersay,  and  Goyault, 
Seigneur  of  St.  Ouen  and  Gros-Nez,  his  faithful 
friend  and  vassal,  swear  before  high  God  to  fight 
your  battles,  lady,  and  to  honour  you  to  the  last 
drop  of  blood.  So  help  us  God.  Amen." 

And  Goyault's  rich  voice  echoed  sadly,  "Amen, 
amen." 


CHAPTER  VI. 
LOVE'S  CURSE. 

HEAVY  discontent  and  grumbling  passed  about 
the  hall  when  it  was  made  known  that  the  Count 
and  Goyault  alone  would  cross  the  sea  to  Grenezay 
to  do  battle  in  the  cause  of  the  Lady  Algitha. 
Men,  balked  of  excitement  and  of  change,  loathed 
the  round  shores  which  held  them  from  the  larger 
life  beyond,  or  so  they  said ;  and  many  swore  to 
choose  some  other  leader  than  their  lord  Count 
Karadac,  whom  they  had  followed  in  a  hundred 
frays  upon  the  mainland  while  the  Norman  duke- 
dom, swayed  this  way  and  that  by  jealousies  and 
feuds,  settled  itself  more  firmly  by  degrees  to  a  se- 
cure foothold,  from  which  William  was  yet  to  launch 
himself  upon  the  neck  of  England.  But  Karadac 
was  not  a  captain  to  be  forsaken  lightly,  for  his  re- 
nown stood  highest  even  in  the  warlike  Norman 
Court. 

Tonstain,  with  false  reasonings — and  silent  laugh- 
ter— worked  on  Barantin  to  oppose  the  Count  in  his 
adventure,  till  Karadac,  vexed  with  persistent  ques- 
tioning and  advice,  at  length  sent  the  old  man  from 
his  presence  with  one  sharp  word,  and  Drogo  bab- 
bled about  the  Castle  of  the  Count's  folly  and  the 
sorceries  of  the  Saxon  girl. 


LOVE'S  CURSE.  51 

By  midnight  all  was  ready,  and  Karadac  had 
bound  two  aigrettes  of  whalebone  to  his  crest  as 
chieftain  of  a  realm  bordered  on  all  sides  by  the 
sea.  Upon  the  dark  causeway  he  met  with  Baran- 
tin.  The  wizened  figure,  wrapped  in  its  heavy  cloak, 
drew  pity  from  the  Count.  He  was  half  ashamed 
that  so  poor  a  thing  had  angered  him  last  evening. 
In  the  first  flush  of  happiness  a  man's  heart  grows 
kind. 

"  What  is  it,  Drogo  ? — No,  no,  last  evening  is  last 
evening :  the  day  is  past  and  let  its  wrath  go  with 
it,"  and  so  he  would  have  passed  on  but  Barantin 
caught  at  the  broidered  garment  flung  about  his 
shoulders  over  the  coat  of  chain  mail. 

"  Stay,  lord,  I  have  a  request — not  mine  but 
Gundred's.  Will  you  speak  with  her?"  the  old 
man  faltered. 

Karadac's  face  clouded. 

"  But  for  a  moment,  lord.  She  would  wish  you 
good  luck  on  your  adventure,"  he  went  on.  "  She 
is  here."  He  opened  the  little  gate  behind  him 
and  pointed  to  the  open  space  of  turf  where  the 
Count  had  spoken  with  Goyault  yesterday. 

It  was  a  sultry  night  and  breathless.  Down  be- 
low the  cliff  the  sea  moved  with  an  oily  heave  that 
spoke  of  coming  storm.  The  very  air  was  heavy 
as  if  burdened  with  some  ill  presentiment.  The 
fancy  woke  in  Karadac  at  the  sound  of  Gundred's 
name.  Gundred  ?  He  never  liked  a  woman  with 
dark  brows,  and  since  the  whispers  and  sly  smiles 


52  LOVE'S  CURSE. 

that  passed  about  her  passion  had  wakened  him  to 
knowledge  of  it,  he  almost  hated  her.  Hated  her 
the  more  that  even  William  pressed  the  marriage 
on  him,  for  Gundred  was  heiress  of  large  do- 
mains lying  on  the  Breton  marches  and  the  Duke 
desired  to  secure  a  warrior  staunch  and  strong  as 
Karadac  to  rule  them  lest  a  weaker  hand  let  in  dep- 
redations like  the  sea  to  swamp  his  throne. 

So  Karadac  passed  through  the  little  gate,  moving 
in  quick  impatience,  thrusting  aside  the  dew-wet 
grasses  with  his  mailed  feet.  The  scent  of  wild 
roses  as  he  crushed  them  back  assailed  him  like  a 
memory  of  Algitha.  Then  he  saw  Gundred. 

She  was  standing  in  an  angle  made  by  the  low 
battlement  against  the  upspringing  of  a  wall  that  but- 
tressed the  castle-tower.  So  she  stood  darkly 
centred  in  a  sullen  blotch  of  light  that  hung  in  a 
ragged  fringe  from  a  lantern  above  her. 

Karadac  approached  her  silently.  He  had  no 
word  of  greeting  for  his  thoughts  were  filled  with 
new  forebodings  and  what  this  sudden  cloud  upon 
his  spirit  might  portend.  He  looked  from  the 
lowering  heaven  to  the  threatening  roll  of  water 
and  knew  that  he  must  hasten  if  he  would  escape 
the  tempest  and  reach  the  shores  of  Grenezay  in 
good  time  to  play  his  part  of  champion. 

And  Gundred  gazed  at  him  under  the  dim  folds 
about  her  head,  and  all  her  soul  was  agonised  in 
parting.  The  past  times  when,  though  he  had  not 
been  hers,  he  had  still  not  been  another's,  came  back 


LOVE'S  CURSE.  53 

upon  her  with  a  piteous  rush  of  tenderness.  How 
dear  and  sweet  they  were  !  Though  she  had 
mourned  through  them  not  guessing  of  the  keener 
pain  that  was  to  come.  To-day  he  was  another's,  so 
far  as  vows  and  vagrant  love  could  make  him  so. 
She  pressed  her  veil  upon  her  lips  and  bit  it  through. 
Was  there  no  charm  in  heaven  or  earth  to  lure 
his  heart  home  to  her — to  its  true  rest  ?  No,  no, 
he  was  going  out  for  ever,  to  his  death  perhaps :  if 
not  to  death,  why  then  to  the  arms  of  a  fair  wife  ! 
How  should  she  teach  herself  the  patience  to  en- 
dure ?  How  should  she  live  to  see  him  waste  his 
love  on  one  who  could  not  give  him  back  one  half 
the  worship  that  ached  within  her? 

Sternly  and  suddenly  he  spoke. 

"Lady,  farewell.  The  storm  is  gathering;  I 
must  go." 

"Karadac," — she  slipped  into  the  old  childish 
habit,  perhaps  with  some  piteous  hope  of  wakening 
lost  and  gentler  memories, — "  Karadac,  spare  me  a 
moment  before  you  go.  Nay,  I  would  only  say  God 
be  with  you  and  farewell."  Her  voice  stopped  in 
her  throat. 

"  Farewell,  lady,"  he  said  again  and  turned. 

"  Karadac,  not  yet — Do  you  forget  when  we 
played  here  in  other  summers  and  you — you — "  he 
looked  down  upon  her,  and 'his  cold  gaze  cut  off  her 
speech. 

Yes,  he  remembered  well  childish  vows  and 
kisses,  but  the  touch  by  her  on  those  same  recol- 


54  LOVE'S  CURSE. 

lections,  knowing  of  her  what  he  did,  and  being  as 
he  was  in  the  first  flush  of  passion  for  that  other, 
raised  in  him  a  mortal  loathing  which  without  his 
will  his  answer  echoed. 

"  Childish  follies,  lady,  which  surely  you  have 
forgiven." 

His  indifference  fired  her. 

"  Forgiven,"  her  fettered  tongue  impeded  her — 
"  but  not  forgotten." 

"  Why  yes,  forgotten  too  !  " 

He  smiled,  and  stirred  an  impatient  foot. 

"  There  was  once — have  a  little  patience  with  me, 
Karadac,"  the  urgency  of  the  moment  clogged  her 
woefully,  "  there  was  once  a  noble  Christian  knight 
who  in  some  far-off  adventure  fought  in  single  com- 
bat with  an  infidel  and  from  the  body  of  his  foe  he 
took  a  gem,  the  which  became  his  dearest  treasure. 
The  gem  was  clear  and  blue  like  a  glimpse  of  sky 
shining  through  purest  water." 

A  quick  sigh  broke  in  upon  her  faltering  speech, 
for  Karadac  bethought  him  of  sweet  eyes  blue  and 
limpid  as  the  jewel. 

"  And  afterward  that  knight  returning  home  was 
wont  to  praise  the  beauty  of  the  gem  as  matchless, 
until  one  day  a  certain  man  who  heard  him  an- 
swered :  '  By  wanderings  and  bloody  battle  and 
many  sufferings  of  soul  and  body  you  won  your 
gem,  and  I,  a  plain  man  who  have  stopped  at  home, 
have  picked  up  such  another  by  the  sea,  as  clear,  as 
blue,  as  precious,'  and  from  his  bosom  drew  a  stone 
as  lustrous  as  the  knight's." 


LOVE'S  CURSE.  55 

She  ceased.  The  meaning  of  the  parable  was 
manifest.  Karadac  recoiled. 

"  The  heart  of  man  is  so  poor  a  thing,"  he  said, 
"  that  it  but  values  its  possessions  in  relation  to  the 
price  paid  down.  That  which  costs  us  blood  and 
suffering  and  tears  is,  being  dear  bought,  held  in 
most  esteem." 

Gundred  was  trembling  visibly.  Not  yet  would 
she  let  him  go.  One  more  effort,  the  supremest  to 
a  woman  instinct  all  with  pride,  was  still  to  make. 
She  must  for  dear  love's  sake  brave  the  worst  that 
man  can  give  to  her  who  fain  would  win  him. 

"  I  cannot  forget,  Karadac.  Who  would  forget 
those  sweetest  days  of  youth — days,  Karadac" — 
with  a  poor  attempt  at  laughter — "  when  you  vowed 
you — "  Her  courage  broke.  The  Count's  rigid 
figure  cowed  the  rush  of  stumbling  words. 

"  Remember  nothing  of  that  poor  sauciness,  lady. 
Once  more  I  ask  forgiveness  for  the  child  that  once 
was  Karadac.  Fear  nothing.  Remind  you  of  those 
old  words  I  never  will  nor  can,  for  I  am  pledged  to 
love — " 

She  caught  him  by  the  arm  and  in  the  smoky 
light  he  saw  the  dark  face  raised  to  his  instinct  with 
pleading  rage. 

"  Don't  utter  it  !  Leave  the  rest  unsaid,  because 
whatever  you  say  now  the  echo  will  linger  in  my 
ears  for  ever  !  Words  that  cannot  be  forgotten,  al- 
though we  yearn  to  blot  them  out  with  blood  if 
that  could  avail  to  do  it.  Karadac,  hear  me  this 


56  LOVE'S  CURSE. 

once.  Have  I  not  read  your  heart  through  these 
past  years  ?  Have  I  not  known  that  in  your  lone- 
liness you  have  sought  for  love,  and  only  love,  true 
love,  with  tears  and  prayers  ?  " 

He  frowned  upon  her  blackly.  Tenfold  he 
loathed  her  now  upon  this  proof  of  her  strange  in- 
sight into  his  sacred  quest,  his  inmost  thought. 
How  should  he  endure  to  meet  again  those  hated 
eyes,  knowing  they  could  fathom  all  his  heart  ? 

Gundred  shivered.  She  already  knew  her  fate 
but  womanlike  would  not  acknowledge  it,  so  clung 
forlornly  to  some  poor  straw  of  hope. 

"  Karadac,  there  is  a  love  which  has  always  been 
your  own,  consecrated  from  the  dawn  of  life  to  you, 
a  heart  where  you  lie  imaged  and  have  been  from 
the  beginning  ;  no  other  shadow  has  ever  fallen 
there.  Is  that  nothing  to  offer  for  your  acceptance  ? 
All  yours  !  Will  ever  any  woman  say  those  words 
again  with  absolute  fidelity  in  your  ears  ?  It  can- 
not be,  Karadac,  for  none  but  she  of  whom  I  speak 
has  been  beside  you  from  your  youth.  This  gold- 
haired  Saxon,  how  know  you  whom  she  loves  or 
has  loved  in  her  time?  She  whose  voice  you  have 
not  even  heard — " 

"They  tell  me  it  is  soft  and  sweet  as  doves  cooing 
in  the  autumn  woods,"  he  answered  remorselessly. 

"And  mine  is  clogged  by  some  cruel  chance  of 
birth — Oh,  you  are  cruel,  cruel,  Karadac!  I  hate 
you  — alas  !  no,  I  love  you.  My  heart  is  breaking 
for  the  love  of  you.  For  you  are  mine — I  feel  it." 


LOVE'S  CURSE.  57 

She  laid  her  hands  upon  her  breast.  "  Mine — my 
love  in  the  here  and  the  hereafter !  Come  to  me 
now  and  let  that  other  go.  Send  Goyault  on  your 
quest.  He  is  the  man,  give  him  his  right.  But 
you — for  love's  dear  sake,  let  no  stain  of  earth  dull 
this  high  lustre  of  pure  love  that  now  is  yours  and 
mine  ! " 

She  knelt  before  him,  stretching  out  her  hands 
in  anguished  supplication.  But  Karadac  seemed  to 
grow  taller  on  her  sight.  He  wrapped  his  cloak 
about  him,  the  cold  edge  of  his  thigh-piece  grazed 
her  trembling  hand  as  with  one  short  "  Farewell  " 
he  passed  her  by. 

She  watched  the  shadowy  figure  trample  out  a 
savage  path  between  the  rose-blooms  and  the  briers, 
and  then  she  flung  herself  face-downward  on  the 
springing  grass  and  clutched  and  tore  it  in  her 
torment.  She  was  strong,  deep-hearted  and  wild- 
willed,  and  the  desire  of  soul  and  body  conquered 
her  in  that  dark  hour,  and  she  cursed  him — cursed 
the  man  she  loved ;  called  down  upon  him  blight 
and  disillusionment ;  prayed  that  the  mad  hour  she 
quivered  under  now  might  yet  be  his — despair  and 
bitterness  and  utter  blackness — all  be  his  ! 

"Then,  sweet  Virgin  Mother,  let  me  comfort 
him,"  was  her  prayer. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WHAT   THE   RED    MOON   SAW. 

THE  storm  leaped  from  the  Great  Sea  into  the 
western  sky-rim,  thrusting  back  the  moonlight  be- 
fore it,  and  hung  hooded  and  dry-eyed  over  the 
cowering  land.  Nothing  moved  but  the  sea,  and 
that  swung  groping  and  hollow-mouthed  about  the 
bases  of  the  cliffs. 

Goyault  rode  hard  pushing  blindly  on  through 
the  sweating  sultry  hours.  Long  ago  he  had  lost 
the  Count  in  the  deeper  gloom  of  some  swaying 
wooded  hill-side.  For  Karadac,  taking  Goyault 
with  him,  had  elected  to  cross  the  ridgy  backbone 
of  the  island  rather  than  follow  the  lengthier  track 
that  curved  south  and  west  within  sight  of  the 
shore.  By  this  coast  road  he  sent  his  following  to 
Gros-Nez,  whence  he  vowed  to  embark  at  dawn 
alone,  if  not  one  other  man  had  won  his  way  thither 
in  time  to  bear  him  company. 

Somewhere  far  back  in  a  depth  of  time,  or  so  it 
seemed  to  Goyault,  they  two,  Count  Karadac  and 
he,  had  ridden  out  from  the  keep  of  Mont  Orgueil, 
their  heavy  horses  sliding  and  plunging  down  the 
stony  slope  under  an  uncertain  newly-risen  moon 
that  swam  pale  above  a  transverse  bar  of  cloud  low 


WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW.          59 

on  the  horizon.  Then  Karadac,  breaking  off  from 
the  main  company,  mounted  the  opposing  uplands, 
trusting  to  his  knowledge  of  the  interior  to  pass 
more  swiftly  across  to  the  north-western  headland 
above  St.  Ouen's. 

From  the  outset  the  two  men  had  ridden  madly, 
not  following  each  other  but  straining  on  abreast 
at  haphazard,  through  heavy  woods,  buffeted  by 
low  hanging  branches,  down  treacherous  slopes  to 
water-rank  valleys,  where  their  tired  beasts  laboured 
and  snorted  kneedeep  in  clinging  mire  and  weeds. 
Yet  they  pushed  on  with  desperate  spurrings 
through  the  swamps  and  a  hurtling  rush  on  every 
open  ground.  A  scarcely  conscious  race,  perhaps, 
yet  each  man  rode  to  win  and  each  gripped  grimly 
at  the  skirts  of  death  rather  than  fall  upon  defeat. 

But  that  was  long  and  long  ago,  far  back  in  some 
lost  age  where  he  had  lost  the  Count.  Between 
there  lay  a  waste  of  darkness.  The  visionary  ter- 
rors ot  those  mysterious  hills  and  vales  were  all 
forgotten  in  the  living  stress  of  soul  and  body. 
Love  held  him  all  possessed.  There  was  but  one 
usurping  fear  upon  God's  earth,  not  hell-fire  nor  the 
horrid  Day  of  Doom,  but  only  that  one  dread — to 
fail  the  Lady  Algitha  in  her  hour  of  need. 

Torn  with  doubt  and  impulse  and  a  discord  of 
thought  that  seemed  to  rush  past  him  with  heated 
breathing  of  the  wind,  he  saw  himself  at  one  in- 
stant engaged  in  a  wild  struggle  with  Karadac  on 
the  open  downs  beside  Gros-Nez.  Yet  should  they 


60         WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW. 

two,  being  mighty  men  and  desperate,  slay  or 
wound  each  other  sorely,  his  love  must  stand  with- 
out a  champion  at  the  Lists!  Or  he  would  dream 
that  Karadac  fought  for  her  and  won — A  hundred 
times  the  changing  visions  worked  themselves  out 
to  the  same  relentless  issue  of  perplexity. 

At  length  it  seemed  he  waked  as  he  drew  rein 
upon  the  thinning  edges  of  a  wood  of  young  oak- 
trees.  All  was  black  before  him,  the  sea-moan 
sounded  close,  and  a  gust  of  clammy  air  blew  upon 
his  face  from  a  void  of  night.  Over  all  the  great 
unearthly  tempest  towered  and  brooded.  The 
hurry  of  his  ride  was  checked.  Goyault  knew  he 
stood  upon  the  threshold  of  the  tide  and  death 
gaped  open-throated  among  the  unseen  cliffs.  He 
waited,  half  content  to  wait,  for  the  storm  struck 
an  answering  note  in  his  mood.  Nature  was  at 
war !  And  mingling  with  the  vast  battle  of  her 
passions  his  human  passion  gained  a  fit  grandeur 
and  expression. 

The  pause  from  action  brought  a  throbbing  rush 
of  heat  about  him  that  rang  in  his  ears  and  sub- 
merged him  like  a  wave.  Panting  and  dizzy,  he 
raised  his  face  to  heaven  as  from  the  shroud  of 
purple-black  there  shot  out  a  sword  of  light  stab- 
bing this  way  and  that,  and  close  upon  it  a  deafen- 
ing roar  that  rolled  and  crashed  and  jolted,  wheeling 
to  the  horizon.  The  earth  seemed  to  sway  and 
rock  below  under  the  huge  impact.  Then  once 
again  hot  silence. 


WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW.         61 

And  in  the  silence  Goyault  called  to  mind  what 
he  had  seen  in  the  swift  panorama  of  the  lightning. 
His  own  castle  of  Gros-Nez  clear-cut  upon  its 
lonely  point  and  on  the  desolate  heath  between  a 
horse  that  galloped  headlong  towards  the  cliff 
carrying  a  shape  that  raised  its  arms  and  cried  and 
vanished  as  the  gloom  closed  over  all  again. 

He  raised  himself  in  the  saddle  and  shouted,  and 
the  hot  dry  sky  flung  back  the  echo  in  his  teeth, 
and  Goyault,  forgetting  all  but  loyalty  to  his  lord, 
grasped  at  the  bridle  and  spurred  forward  calling. 
And  the  storm  grew  into  black-purple  gloom  about 
him. 

"  Karadac,  my  lord,  there  is  danger  !  " 

While  he  cried  his  horse  stopped  on  a  sudden, 
shivering,  and  stretching  out  its  neck  sniffed  at  the 
ground.  Moving  his  stiffened  limbs,  Goyault  slid 
from  the  saddle  and  kneeling  groped  about  the 
grasses  in  the  dark.  The  smells  of  the  overwrought 
earth  struck  up  at  him.  He  felt  and  felt  among 
the  tussocks.  The  dome  of  sky  above  him  shut 
him  in,  close  as  the  roof  of  a  cathedral.  And  then 
he  touched  the  crested  helmet  of  the  Count. 

"  Karadac,  my  lord  !  "  but  for  a  long  space  gained 
no  answer. 

Presently  he  unloosed  the  Count's  visor.  A  fit- 
ful wind  came  sweeping  from  under  the  puffed  cowl 
of  the  tempest,  a  few  broad  drops  of  rain  splashed 
upon  the  uncovered  face,  and  Karadac  raised  him- 
self. 


62         WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW. 

"  I  heard  a  voice,"  he  said. 

"  Karadac  ! " 

"  Do  I  dream  ?  "  Karadac  went  on  ;  "  it  seemed 
to  me  that  I  was  riding  through  a  thicket  all  alone 
and  glad.  .  .  .  Then  with  a  roar  a  deeper  blackness 
smote  me  on  the  brow  and  eyes.  But  that  was 
years  ago.  I  have  been  in  the  dark  for  years. 
Where  am  I  ?" 

"  Lord,  I  am  here — Goyault.  And  when  the 
storm  breaks  we  shall  see  my  castle  of  Gros-Nez 
stand  on  the  cliff-head." 

"  I  am  in  a  land  of  dreams,"  Karadac's  words  came 
haltingly ;  "  there  is  thunder  on  the  left  and  flash- 
ing lights  before,  and  through  them  Goyault's 
voice  pierces  from  far  away." 

A  new  design  sprang  fully  formed  in  Goyault's 
brain.  His  hand  tightened  upon  his  sword.  Should 
he  speak  out  ?  He  knew  the  Count.  He  had  no 
fear.  The  words  beat  upwards  in  his  throat.  If 
he  spoke — what  then  ?  A  fair  fight  in  the  tempest 
with  the  Count !  His  humour,  wrought  upon  by 
Nature's  concurrent  fury,  kindled  to  flame. 

"  There  are  no  flashing  lights — naught  but  dead 
darkness.  Yet,  light  or  dark,  Count  Karadac,  you 
must  bear  with  me  and  listen  !  "  Goyault  spoke 
roughly. 

The  Count  laughed. 

"  Now  I  know  I  dream  !  Goyault's  voice  in 
wrath  against  his  liege,  and  the  smell  of  the  sea, 
heather  at  my  feet  and  blood  upon  my  face." 


WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW.         63 

"  Would  you  play  the  madman  ?  "  cried  the  other, 
his  galled  mood  fretted  raw. 

"  Mad  ?  "  repeated  the  Count,  "  am  I  mad  ? — 
Mad  Karadac ! "  He  paused  and  slowly  gained 
his  feet.  "  Goyault,  the  voice  was  yours.  If  I  am 
not  mad  come — touch  me." 

But  Goyault,  with  his  rein  upon  his  arm,  stood 
aloof  and  sullen.  Karadac's  strange  words  struck 
his  design  of  open  speech  awry. 

"  No  answer ! — Brown  and  whirling  darkness, 
cored  with  flickering  lights  and  voices  passing 
through."  Karadac  spoke  again  and  waited. 

In  the  interval  the  lightning  and  the  thunder 
came  once  more,  and  Goyault  saw  the  Count 
stand  drooping  like  a  broken  man,  and  blood  was 
on  his  face. 

"  Karadac,  what  will  you  ?  " 

"Nay,  I  do  not  know.  I  cannot  see  you."  He 
touched  Goyault.  "  Goyault,  my  friend  Goyault  ?  " 
he  questioned  pitifully. 

"  I  am  Goyault." 

"  Tell  me  then,  am  I  Karadac  ?  " 

"You  are  Karadac.  Come,  the  tempest  will 
break.  Let  us  seek  shelter  until  it  passes  over. 
There  is  a  shed  near  by.  We  cannot  reach  Gros- 
Nez  without  the  light.  Come,  follow  me." 

But  when  he  reached  the  byre  he  found  himself 
alone.  The  lightning  played  continuously  between 
earth  and  sky,  and  a  bent  figure  he  scarcely  knew 
for  Karadac's  stumbled  vaguely  to  and  fro,  halting 


64         WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW. 

and  shrinking  when  the  thunder  trumpeted    from 
behind  the  dry-eyed  storm. 

Goyault  shouted. 

"  See,  I  am  here  !  " 

"  How  can  I  see  ?    The  air  is  full  of  blackness." 

The  answer  fell  chill  upon  Goyault's  hot  mood. 
Without  a  word  he  strode  forth,  and  taking  the 
Count  by  the  hand  led  him  to  the  hut. 

"  Move  slowly.  In  the  darkness  we  may  edge 
the  cliff." 

Karadac  hung  back  like  one  afraid  upon  the  guid- 
ing hand. 

"  There  is  light  enough  to  see  the  way,"  Goyault 
answered  roughly. 

"  My  God  !  "  A  very  little  under-breath,  and  after 
it  a  hoarse  great  cry.  "  Then  it  is  not  a  dream,  and 
I  am  blind,  blind,  blind  !  " 

"Goyault,  still  holding  by  the  Count's  hand,  pulled 
him  inwards  to  refuge. 

"  I  saw  blood  upon  your  brow  and  eyes." 

"  You  saw  it  !  Is  not  that  enough  ?  "  and,  feeling 
by  the  wall,  Karadac  sank  down  upon  the  heath- 
piled  ground  and  all  the  world  about  him  was  a 
mad-revolving  wheel  of  purple-yellow  shadows. 

"  Oh  God,  the  Ruler  !  "  he  shrieked  out  amidst 
the  tumult  of  the  storm,  "smite  me  that  this  strong 
life  in  me  may  wither  and  dry  up.  Crush  me  and  I 
will  praise  Thee  !  Tear  from  me  the  soul  Thou 
gavest  and  give  me  eternal  peace  and  sleep  !  " 

But  only  the  thunder  answered. 


WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW.         65 

Goyault  stood  speechless,  his  own  self  forgotten 
in  that  vision  of  elemental  anguish. 

"O  Christ!  "the  voice  broke  forth  again,  and 
Goyault  saw  Karadac,  once  more  majestic,  standing 
upright  against  the  storm-lights ;  "  O  Lord  Christ, 
blast  me,  for  I  shall  never  see  again  !  And  some- 
times I  shall  dream  that  I  can  see  and  wake  to  find 
the  vision  false  and  the  whole  earth  gone  dark  for 
evermore  ! — O  God,  God,  God — never  to  see  again  !  " 

A  howling  wind  rushed  through  the  hut  and  fled 
on  screaming. 

"A  curse  has  come  upon  me,  O  my  God  !  For  I 
shall  feel  the  sun  and  never  see  the  day  :  and  hear 
the  clash  of  arms,  but,  maimed  worse  than  other 
men,  I  can  rush  no  more  into  the  heart  of  battle 
and  thence  hew  out  my  way  as  in  old  times  when  I 
despised  my  strength.  Blast  me,  O  gentle  Christ 
— I  cannot  live  !  " 

The  bellying  storm-cloud  rent  by  the  wind  showed 
in  the  rift  a  low  red  moon.  Karadac  raised  his 
hands  and  covered  up  his  face. 

"  I  am  forsaken — now  indeed  I  am  forsaken  ! 
There  is  none  to  hear  and  none  to  answer  at  my  cry. 
I  am  alone  for  ever  in  the  dark  !  " 

Goyault  put  out  a  hand,  timid  he  knew  not 
wherefore. 

"  I  am  here,  lord." 

Karadac  sprang  towards  him. 

"  Is  it  dawn  ?  What  do  you  see,  Goyault  ?  Is 
the  sea  blue  and  silver?" 


66         WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW. 

"  Nay,  it  is  night  and  the  thundercloud  lowers, 
but  at  its  skirts  a  low  red  moon  gleams  through." 

"  A  low  red  doomful  moon  !     What  else  ?  " 

"  The  heaven  is  black  but  clearer  towards  Grene- 
zay,  and  the  storm  reflected  tumultuously  in  the 
great  pool  of  St.  Ouen's." 

Karadac  staggered  back  in  an  access  of  agony 
and  seized  in  both  his  hands  the  frail  roof. 

"  And  I — I  am  surrounded  by  great  walls  of  dark- 
ness, moving,  whirling  walls.  I  cannot  live  hence- 
forward in  blank  night,  helpless — my  God,  I,  Kara- 
dac, helpless  !  A  world  away  from  all  the  world  ! 
— It  cannot — shall  not  be  !  " 

Around  them  the  storm  brooded  and  the  Count's 
face,  fierce  and  impotent,  was  lit  with  the  passing 
of  lurid  light  and  shadow. 

"  Listen,  Goyault,  where  is  the  pool  ?  Lead  me 
to  it.  It  is  deep  and  a  fit  sepulchre  for  him  who 
was  once  haut  prince  in  his  own  land.  The  red 
moon  shines  in  it,  Goyault?" 

"Aye,  the  red  moon  shines  in  it." 

"  Shines  down  far  into  the  weed-grown  depths 
where  I  shall  lie  asleep — asleep,  for  there  it  is  for 
ever  night,  a  double  night.  And  the  moons  of 
afterdays  shall  be  reflected  above  me  on  the  moan- 
ing tides.  Come,  lead  me  down,  Goyault." 

"  I  cannot,  lord  Count." 

"  I  will  seek  death  alone  !  " 

"  Lord,"  said  the  other  slowly,  "  this  is  not  a 
great  death." 


WHAT  THE  RED  MOON  SAW.         67 

"  Death — great  ? — what  matters  it  ?  You  shall 
succeed  me,  and  be  overlord  of  Gersay.  Will  not 
that  content  you  ?  " 

Goyault's  face  was  set.  The  red  moon  waned 
behind  closing  vapours. 

"Your  pardon,"  cried  the  Count  again,  "  for  I  am 
distraught  with  woe.  Yet  lead  me !  You  will 
not  ?  Then  if  you  are  still  my  true  knight,  see  my 
sword  is  in  my  right  hand,  place  your  left  hand  in 
my  left  hand — and  fight.  Nay,  nay,  I  do  not  mean 
it,  but  lead  me  to  the  cliff-edge  and  so  to  peace." 

"  I  will  not  do  it — I  cannot  !  Ask  anything  but 
that." 

There  was  a  hush  over  land  and  sea,  the  last 
long  breathless  hush  before  the  breaking  of  the 
rain.  Karadac  raised  his  voice. 

"  Who  cursed  me  that  I  am  blind — blind,  blind, 
blind  !  To  dwell  in  outer  darkness  blind  and 
maimed  and  mad  !  And  Goyault — even  Goyault 
who  called  me  mad — me,  Karadac  !  No,  it  shall 
not  be — I  can  still  die  !  " 

In  the  returning  gloom  Goyault  rushed  out  and 
met  him  in  full  shock  and  both  were  hurled  about 
into  a  turmoil  of  wild  wind  and  rain.  For  just 
then  the  storm  broke. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND. 

OUTSIDE  Goyault  could  hear  the  sorrow  of  the 
rain  as  it  beat  upon  the  grass,  a  close  and  lashing 
rain.  From  the  clouds  the  trumpets  of  the  storm 
thrilled  and  re-echoed,  drew  near  and  died  away. 
So  he  watched  the  dark  hour  through,  broken  with 
doubt  and  longing  for  the  day,  though  what  the 
day  might  bring  he  could  by  no  means  devise. 
Then  a  greyness  crept  slowfooted  over  the  drenched 
forest  behind,  birds  began  to  wake,  and  dawn  came 
with  a  little  shower. 

On  that  day  was  no  clear  shining  after  rain  ;  only 
a  leaden  sky  and  the  north  wind  piping  shrilly  as 
on  a  winter  morning.  Goyault  sat  staring  out  over 
the  desolate  expanse  of  moorland  which  covers  the 
flat  scalp  of  Gros-Nez,  at  the  front  of  his  castle 
standing  against  the  wild  western  heaven.  The 
sea  was  up  and  booming  along  the  coast,  flinging 
its  spume  and  spray  high  above  the  cliff  up  to  the 
castle  walls. 

As  the  light  strengthened  Karadac  began  to  mut- 
ter in  the  delirium  of  his  dreams.  His  thick  hair 
was  wet  with  rain  and  on  his  brow  a  black  wound 
above  the  eyes.  From  muttering  he  passed  to 


THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND.       69 

waking,  and  Goyault  knew  remembrance  had  come 
upon  him  for  suddenly  his  limbs  grew  tense  and 
deadly  still. 

"Am  I  alone?"  The  hoarse  question  carried 
with  it  the  torment  of  helplessness. 

"  It  is  morning,  lord,"  was  the  answer,  embar- 
rassed with  the  Count's  affliction  and  the  need  of 
open  speech  between  them.  "A  bleak  dawning, 
full  of  cloud  and  the  wind  contrary." 

Karadac  moved  with  pain. 

''Then  the  rowers  shall  work  the  harder.  We 
must  be  in  Grenezay  by  night." 

"You  also,  lord  ?" 

"I  am  blind,"  cried  the  other  bitterly;  "would 
you  say  that  ?  But  I  still  am  Karadac,  a  mighty 
warrior  and  the  champion  of  the  Lady  Algitha 
when  she  calls  for  one  to  aid  her  in  the  lists." 

"  What  ?  Match  your  new  blindness  with  Gau- 
thier's  practised  subtlety  and  art  ?  What  ? — risk  her 
honour  and  her  life  on  a  chance  of  fate  ? — No, 
Karadac,  that  shall  never  be ! "  Goyault  swore 
hotly. 

"  How  now  ?  Have  I  yet  lost  my  strength  and 
cunning  ?  I  will  seize  him  by  the  throat  and 
blind  I'll  kill  him." 

"  Should  chance  befriend  you — yes  ;  but  if  not  ? 
Besides,  the  laws  of  chivalry  forbid  it." 

"  What  then  ?  Shall  we  leave  her  at  the  mercy 
of  base  slanderers?  Up,  let  us  be  gone  !  " 

"  Have  you  forgotten  that  I  am  also  her  sworn 


70       THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND. 

champion  ?  Did  not  my  sword  cross  yours  last 
night  when  we  took  the  oath  together  at  Mont 
Orgueil  ?  "  Goyault  halted.  He  had  meant  to  say 
much  more,  to  tell  all  that  was  in  his  heart — that 
he  too  loved  Algitha,  that  in  the  years  past  he  had 
seen  her  on  the  verge  of  girlhood,  lovely  even  then. 
All  this  and  more  he  had  meant  to  say,  urging  how 
love  may  not  be  fettered,  and  to  claim  his  own  priv- 
ilege as  man  and  knight  to  do  battle  for  her.  But 
that  was  yester-even,  when  Karadac  was  whole  and 
strong.  And  now  Goyault  could  not  find  the 
words,  for  though  he  loved  more  stubbornly  every 
hour,  pity  and  old  friendship  held  him  back  from 
adding  a  last  blow  to  the  poor  remnant  of  proud 
hopes.  Karadac  was  the  friend  of  years,  the  rival 
only  of  a  day. 

"And  you  claim  your  right  as  a  whole  man  and 
sound  against  a  shattered  wreck  ?  "  Karadac  ques- 
tioned and  paused. 

This  fierce  impatience  of  pity  almost  angered 
Goyault.  He  kept  silence,  in  a  half  contempt  of 
self.  Ethics  were  rare  in  those  days  as  mushrooms 
in  December.  Yet  he  felt  a  yearning  towards  the 
higher  part  and  even  for  a  moment  trembled  on  the 
brink  of  a  renunciation.  But  then  the  form  and 
eyes  of  Algitha  came  between  him  and  his  young 
resolve  ;  the  moment  passed  and  was  gathered  bar- 
ren into  the  lap  of  time.  It  is  often  thus  ;  the 
given  moment  slips  past  and  the  related  human  item 
pays  the  forfeit. 


THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND.       71 

"  Give  me  an  answer :  I  do  not  need  your  pity," 
went  on  the  Count  at  length.  "  Do  you  claim  your 
right  ?  " 

"As  your  deputy,"  Goyault  said  lamely,  without 
the  ring  of  hearty  service  in  the  words. 

The  dominant  temper  of  the  Count  leaped  up. 

"  Have  it  so  then — for  her  sake.  Go  in  my  place, 
go  as  my  vassal,  my  puppet,  the  creature  of  my  will 
— no  more  !  " 

The  young  knight's  fingers  gripped  his  sword  and 
drew  it,  then  softly  let  it  slide  home  into  the  scab- 
bard again.  Karadac  laughed  derisively. 

"  I  know  the  tongue  of  steel  even  when  it  whis- 
pers," he  said.  "  Kill  me  then.  It  is  my  last  de- 
sire !  False  friend  but  dearest  foe,  here  is  my 
heart ! " 

Goyault  choked.  The  Count's  wayward  misery 
won  upon  him  more  and  more.  There  was  a  clang 
of  smitten  metal  as  Goyault  flung  his  sword  and 
spurs  together  on  the  ground,  and  kneeling  by 
the  prostrate  figure  thrust  his  hands  into  the 
Count's. 

"  Hark,  lord,  I  have  done  you  hommage  franc  up- 
standing as  a  free  knight  in  your  court.  Here  of 
my  own  will  to-day  when  you  are  broken  and  sad  I 
do  you  hommage  liege.  I  am  your  man,  then  send 
me  where  you  will." 

Karadac  lay  silent  like  one  dazed  for  a  moment, 
then  a  sudden  glory  shot  over  his  changed  face.  He 
raised  himself  with  a  new  vigour. 


72        THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND. 

"  Have  I  found  you  again,  Goyault  my  friend? — 
the  old  Goyault  whose  generous  blood  ran  to  the 
level  of  every  call  that  chivalry  could  make  upon  it ! 
The  comrade  who  has  ridden  beside  me  many  a  day 
and  whom  I  loved.  A  straight  fierce  knight  whose 
manhood  sat  upon  him  in  a  crown  of  grace,  one  who 
had  seen  great  adventures  and  still  young  was 
grown  wise  in  counsel.  One  whose  name  I  dreamed 
would  live  with  mine  long  after  we  twain  had  fallen 
asleep  !  " 

A  silence  fell — a  little  silence  while  a  great  lost 
hope  was  buried. 

"  My  fame,  my  chance  of  high  renown,  have  been 
smitten  from  me,"  he  resumed,  touching  his  brow 
and  paused  with  a  caught  breath  ;  "  but  in  my  new 
agony  I  have  forgotten  one  blest  thought.  Have  I 
not  seen  the  Lady  Algitha — not  her  self  but  her 
breathing  presentment  ?  Henceforward  there  will 
be  but  one  face  before  mine  eyes  and  I  will  tell  her 
I  would  choose  blindness  with  that  one  memory 
rather  than  a  sightful  life  and  never  to  have  seen 
her  face  !  Is  not  that  to  love,  my  friend  ?  " — and  in 
his  mood  of  exultation  Karadac  smiled.  "  Yes,  that 
will  show  her  how  I  love — with  no  poor  common 
love  of  earth." 

Goyault  checked  a  groan  that  seemed  like  to 
burst  his  breast.  This  was  indeed  to  love  !  Could 
he  with  all  his  passion  say  the  same? — choose  be- 
tween love  and  the  transcendent  loss  which  shore 
away  from  man  self-help  and  power  and  all  those 


THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND.        73 

thousand  delicate  delights  one  only  counts  in  missing 
them. 

"  Why  are  you  silent  ? — Does  not  the  cause  move 
you?"  the  Count  asked  uneasily. 

"  The  cause  moves  me  strongly.  And  never  yet 
have  I  been  overthrown.  Unless  I  conquer  Gau- 
thier  I  will  have  done  with  life !  "  cried  out  the 
other. 

"  Oh,  that  I  too  might  fight  for  her !  "  In  pitiful 
impotence  Karadac  staggered  to  his  feet :  "  I  would 
sell  my  soul  for  ten  days'  sight." 

"  Have  no  fear,  lord.  It  is  a  holy  cause  and  I 
must  win." 

"  Well,  I  will  die  with  you  if  that  be  all.  For 
after  you  have  jousted  with  Gauthier,  I  will  appeal 
for  privilege  to  tilt  against  him  blind.  Then  St. 
Michael  guide  my  arm  !  Come,  the  day  passes 
and  we  should  be  gone."  He  laid  his  hand  on 
Goyault's  shoulder. 

But  the  young  man  lingered,  for  his  wish  was  set 
that  he  alone  must  go  and  he  alone  must  tilt  for 
Algitha,  yet  he  could  not  compass  under  what  guise 
to  urge  his  will. 

"  Why  do  you  linger?"  The  Count  turned  his 
scarred  face  upon  his  companion,  and  Goyault, 
driven  to  extremity,  stammered  out : 

"  Lord,  you  are  wounded — let  me  go  alone  !  " 
speaking  his  desire  in  simple  fashion  after  all. 

But  the  devil's  destiny  that  twists  our  words  to 
crafty  issues  aided  him  and  showed  a  ready  means 


74       THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND. 

to  gain  the  worst  of  his  desire.  A  deeper  pallor 
drew  away  the  blood  from  Karadac's  dark  face,  and 
with  a  dreadful  fear  he  cried  : 

"  Am  I  then  so  marred  that  she  will  loathe  me  ?  " 

"  Nay,  lord,  but  the  wound  is  fresh.  Will  you 
not  bide  at  home  that  the  flesh  may  heal,  and  when 
my  sail  comes  fluttering  home  from  Grenezay  you 
will  meet  us  on  the  shore  and — "  both  voice  and 
fancy  failed  him  at  the  thought  of  all  that  might  be 
then. 

But  Karadac  was  heavy  at  the  counsel,  yet  he 
could  not  choose  but  see  that  it  was  wise  counsel  to 
be  followed. 

"  So  be  it  then,"  he  said  at  last  after  long  hesi- 
tancy. "  Go,  I  give  you  my  honour,  which  I  had 
never  thought  to  give  into  the  keeping  of  any. 
Guard  it  and  bring  it  back  to  me  unstained  as  now. 
And  after  you  have  fought  and  conquered,  I  would 
charge  you  with  a  message  to  her.  I  charge  you 
tell  her  of  what  temper  is  my  love  ;  that  hence- 
forward there  will  be  but  one  face  upon  my  dark- 
ness, and  say  that  I  would  choose  blindness  rich  with 
that  one  memory  rather  than  a  life  of  daily  sight 
without  it.  That  must  reach  her  heart  an  she  be 
woman.  With  me  she  will  be  safe  against  her 
Norman  foes,  for  William  holds  me  dear  as  friend 
and  vassal.  And  to  her  father's  ear  add  that  I 
would  not  have  her  driven  or  bound  to  listen  to  my 
suit.  But  remember,  Goyault,  say  I  love  her  well 
and  now  I  have  nothing  left  but  her  alone." 


THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND.       75 

Goyault's  face  hardened,  then  looking  at  the 
bloodstained  aspect  of  the  Count,  his  nobleness  and 
fealty  broke  his  anger,  and  stirred  the  true  blood  in 
him. 

"  Karadac,  I  will  tell  her  all ;  aye,  as  you  your- 
self would  tell  it !  I  will  be  a  mighty  advocate." 
He  clasped  the  Count's  hand.  "  I  will  recount  your 
adventures  in  the  chase,  your  battles,  and  your 
great  deeds  of  chivalry.  Then  I  will  on  to  speak 
of  love  and  blindness,  and  in  her  mercy — " 

Mercy  !  That  she  must  stoop  to  him  !  The  word 
stung  the  blind  Count.  His  haughty  soul  revolted, 
and  he  could  not  know  that  the  man  who  spoke 
was  offering  supremest  sacrifice. 

"  Say  no  more  of  mercy  to  the  blind  !  "  Karadac 
cried  harshly.  "  I  will  have  no  pity  in  her  love  ! 
O  Christ,  this  blindness!  Must  I  stoop  to  pity? 
No !  I  am  blind,  aye,  but  I  am  still  the  Count  of 
Gersay  !  " 

Goyault,  under  the  last  of  noble  impulse,  spoke 
once  more. 

"Yes,  lord  Count,  and  never  so  much  my  liege  as 
in  your  blindness.  I  will  guard  your  honour  as  my 
own.  Hear  me  swear  it,  Karadac  !  " 

But  when  the  oath  was  ended,  he  thought  of  all 
that  was  passing  from  him,  and  raised  his  sad  eyes 
to  heaven.  "  I  have  said  enough,"  he  ended  wearily. 

Upon  the  ensuing  quiet  the  wind  brought  a 
muffled  sound  of  horse's  hoofs,  then  a  slow  snuffling 
along  the  chinks  in  the  wall,  lastly  a  horse's  head, 
with  timid  glancing  eyes,  showed  in  the  opening. 


76       THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  Karadac  asked  without  turning 
his  head.  His  loss  was  sore  upon  him. 

"  You  should  know  who  it  is,  lord,"  was  Goyault's 
answer  with  something  of  gladness  in  his  tone,  as 
the  animal,  thrusting  one  diffident  foot  within  the 
hut,  stretched  out  its  neck  and  laid  a  soft  muzzle 
against  the  Count's  cheek. 

"  Rene"  ! — Yes,  I  should  know  her,  the  one  selfless 
love  I  hold  in  all  the  earth  !  "  Then  pulling  him- 
self together  added  :  "  Though,  of  heaven's  grace, 
another  may  yet  be  mine — who  knows?  That  will 
be  your  task,  Goyault ;  bring  her  back  to  me.  Come, 
let  us  be  going." 

They  parted  at  the  castle  gate  with  one  more 
word  from  Karadac. 

"  Your  oath,  remember.  And  may  long  blessing 
follow  you." 

And  Goyault  took  horse  and  rode  like  an  eager 
wind  to  a  bay  where  the  boat  lay  ready.  The  men 
hastened  to  embark  for  the  sea  was  rising,  but  or 
ever  they  rowed  forth  from  under  the  land,  and  the 
wind  veering  to  the  north-east  drove  the  spindrift 
about  the  leopards'  heads  at  prow  and  stern,  Goyault 
had  forgotten  Karadac  and  his  oath.  To  one  of 
his  temper  grief  and  lack  of  hope  are  a  burden 
which  slips  easily  from  the  mind.  Already  he  was 
forecasting  of  how  he  should  meet  with  Algitha, 
and  whether  her  eyes  would  tell  him  he  was  remem- 
bered still,  that  it  was  by  no  vain  chance  she  sent 
her  messenger  to  Gersay  to  seek  a  champion,  but 


THROUGH  THE  CRYING  WIND.        77 

that  she  had  known  full  well  how  one  there  would 
answer  to  the  call.  Alas,  it  was  not  the  bride  of 
Karadac  on  whom  he  pondered  but  the  maiden  of 
his  own  long  dreams. 

In  Gros-Nez  Karadac  met  with  Tonstain  and  his 
following.  Question  and  exclamation  and  regret 
died  out  before  the  darkness  of  his  mood.  He 
commanded  those  who  were  about  him  to  lead  him 
to  the  tower's  crest  where  was  only  a  sentinel  and 
the  wind  crying.  And  he  bade  them  leave  him 
there  alone  with  the  sentinel  and  the  wind  until  he 
should  presently  come  down. 

"  What  see  you  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  little. 

"  I  see  the  boat.  She  has  but  now  shot  round 
the  point.  My  lord  Goyault  is  in  her.  The  waves 
are  high  and  broken  and  they  beat  upon  the  row- 
ers," answered  the  man. 

An  hour  passed. 

"  What  see  you  ?  "  said  Karadac  again. 

"  The  wind  is  shifting ;  they  have  set  a  sail  and 
the  boat  tacks  outward  beyond  the  surf  on  the  great 
rocks.  Already  she  grows  dim." 

Another  hour  passed. 

"  What  now  ?  " 

"  There  is  naught  left  but  sea  and  wind,"  the 
sentinel  replied. 


BOOK  IL 
GOYAULT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   SUDDEN   BLUE  TRANSLUCENT   HOUR. 

IT  was  a  long  long  day  of  wind  and  rain,  but  in 
the  evening  shone  out  a  sudden  blue  translucent 
hour.  The  lull  between  the  van  and  afterguard  of 
the  storm,  a  time  of  new  gleams  and  colours,  the 
sea  crashing  still  in  foam  about  the  rocks  but  on  the 
land  lay  level  light  and  peace.  Upon  a  barren  bluff 
of  crag  the  Castle  of  Jobourg  stood  square  and 
steep  and  grey,  the  sunshine  at  its  back. 

Against  the  south  side  of  the  keep  leaned  an  ir- 
regular wooden  building,  from  the  upper  storey  of 
which  a  low  window  opened  to  the  sea.  To  Algitha 
this  window  had  for  many  days  meant  hope  and 
rescue.  From  sunrise  to  dusk  and  through  the 
sleepless  nights  she  watched  the  sea.  Watched  it 
change  with  all  the  changing  hours,  now  blue,  now 
vivid  green  or  veined  with  purple  currents  in  the 
afternoons  and  shimmering  to  a  strange  milkwhite- 
ness  at  the  hour  of  dawn.  And  beyond  it,  like  a 
cloud  upon  the  horizon,  Gersay  lay. 

Day  by  day  she  watched  an  empty  ocean.  Nor 
did  her  courage  fail  till  that  last  day  of  storm. 
Every  hour  through  as  she  gazed  upon  the  raging 
water  she  knew  that  he  would  come  !  And  yet  no 


82       A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR. 

word  of  love  had  ever  passed  between  Earl  Algar's 
daughter  and  Goyault.  But  young  love  translates 
himself  in  many  tongues.  His  meanings  drift  like 
threads  of  gossamer  across  the  summer  air,  unseen 
of  most,  but  here  and  there  some  destined  eye  will 
catch  a  tinge  of  finespun  rainbow  float  across  the 
light.  A  vision  come  and  gone  within  the  instant, 
yet  irrevocable  as  a  vow. 

And  so  it  was  with  Algitha.  She  recalled  a 
thousand  times  the  young  heroic  figure  with  the 
sunny  eyes  that  smiled  at  her  across  the  courtyard 
where  he  tilted  for  pastime  with  her  brothers,  and 
told  herself  a  thousand  times  that  Goyault  loved 
her.  She  clung  to  the  belief  and  wondered  pitifully 
if  he  knew  how  sore  her  need  was.  Thus  the  day 
of  tempest  drove  her  desperate.  Her  land  of 
promise  overseas  was  lost  in  whirling  mist.  What 
ship  could  live  or  steer  against  the  storm  ?  And 
yet  if  he  came  not  by  to-morrow  he  must  come  too 
late !  At  that  her  heart  cried  out  in  pity  for  him. 
The  motherhood  within  her  yearned  to  save  him 
pain. 

Too  late,  too  late !  The  words  rang  ever  a 
weary  chorus  in  her  brain.  To-morrow  was  the  day 
set  for  the  trial  of  her  innocence,  and  none  could 
tell  her  how  the  thing  would  turn.  For  at  that 
time  the  laws  of  chivalry  were  yet  in  making,  and 
the  issue  might  be  moulded  by  any  hand  strong 
enough  to  carry  out  its  purpose.  Well  she  knew 
that  Gauthier  was  strong,  strong  in  body  as  in  will 


A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR.       83 

and  guile,  and  so  she  wept,  sorrowing  for  the  ruin 
of  her  lover's  hopes  when  he  should  arrive  to  do 
battle  for  her  and  find  the  prize  for  ever  gone  from 
him ! 

And  then  her  mind  would  sway  back  upon  her- 
self, though  on  that  side  was  horror.  She  ached  in 
sorrow  for  Goyault,  yet  there  was  some  tender 
touch  of  sweetness  in  the  sorrow.  For  if  the  loss 
of  her  meant  mighty  grief  to  him,  it  was  because  he 
loved  her  so.  No  proof  of  that  sweet  fact  but  must 
bring  its  savour  of  delight  to  her.  But  to-morrow 
and  to-morrow  and  to-morrow,  a  blank  of  dread ! 
Even  her  father  now  was  turned  to  be  her  enemy. 
Harassed  by  losses,  worn  out  with  evil  fortune 
when  he  learned  that  perchance  Edward's  pardon 
might  be  won  if  Algitha  should  yield,  he  wearied 
her  with  importunities  and  commands.  Many  a 
time  he  wished  that  she  were  not  yet  fifteen  that  he 
might  force  her  to  obey  his  will  according  to  the 
law  which  held  in  England ;  but  as  the  matter 
stood  the  girl  was  free  to  make  her  own  decision. 
Why  would  she  not  wed  with  Gauthier  de  Morlaix  ? 
He  was  one  whom  women  feared  though  many 
loved  him  in  the  fearing.  Why  did  she  not  choose 
to  be  as  other  damsels  were,  scarce  half-reluctant 
when  the  wooer's  heel  rang  upon  the  terret  stair  ? 
Some  foe  had  cast  the  evil  eye  upon  her  or  some 
maggot  crept  within  her  brain  when  they  lay  en- 
camped two  summers  gone  upon  the  banks  of 
Avon.  So  he  would  question  with  her  until  he 


84       A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR. 

worked  his  wrath  up  to  a  bitter  point,  for  always 
upon  argument  followed  the  confusion  which  left 
him  maddened  and  full  of  violence  :  naught,  they 
told  him,  stood  between  him  and  his  lost  domains 
of  Avening  but  a  wench's  foolish  No  ! 

Kneeling  by  the  window  ledge  Algitha  passed 
once  again  through  the  miserable  sequences  which 
had  brought  her  to  this  pass.  How  they  had  met 
with  Gauthier  at  King  Edward's  court,  and  how 
his  bold  gaze  from  that  first  moment  brought  the 
shamed  blood  to  her  cheek,  she  knew  not  why. 
She  hated  him  !  Wed  with  him  ?  She  could  not 
and  she  would  not ! 

She  spread  her  arms  out  into  the  thinning  rain, 
her  golden  wealth  of  hair  hung  to  the  floor,  and 
little  curls  all  wet  with  driven  storm  blowing  about 
her  brow. 

"  O  Virgin  Mother,  aid  me,  aid  me  !  I  am  so  ut- 
terly unhappy.  I  remember  how  different  it  was 
two  years  ago.  Misfortune  is  a  cloud  creeping 
across  the  sea.  It  is  all  so  glorious  till  the  sunlight 
falls  into  the  shadow,  and  then  awakes  a  little  bitter 
wind.  It  has  been  so  with  me.  I  am  never  happy 
now.  I  cannot  choose  for  champion  Goyault,  sweet 
Mother.  Why  do  others  love  me  and  he  only  never 
comes?  I  am  so  helpless.  There  is  no  one  to  do 
battle  for  me.  And  there  is  no  one  whom  I  would 
have  do  battle  for  me  saving  only  he.  There  is  no 
one  whom  I  would  wed  with  saving — And  he  may 
be  another's  champion  in  another  land.  How  know 


A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR.       85 

I  ?  O,  life  is  sad.  The  sun  breaks  forth  ! — is  there 
a  boat  upon  the  sea  ?  "  She  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
leant  out. 

The  uneven  shadow  of  the  tower  thrust  itself  in 
dark  fingers  out  to  the  fringe  of  brier  and  bracken 
which  overhung  the  scarp  of  cliff.  Beyond,  under 
the  clearing  sky,  search  how  she  might,  was  nothing 
but  a  yeasty  tumble  of  brown  water.  And  already 
the  night-cloud  was  rising  in  the  east. 

Yet  the  far  comfort  of  those  blue  translucent 
spaces  widening  behind  the  wrack  came  down  upon 
her.  She  looked  up,  then  sighed  and  smiled 
together.  Some  vague  memory  uplifted  her  tired 
heart.  It  was  of  the  first  time  she  thrilled  under 
Goyault's  eyes  ! 

Love  may  translate  himself  in  many  ways  and  all 
be  read  and  known  of  men,  but  in  what  words  shall 
men  translate  love's  dream  ?  Love  and  its  coming  ! 
She  breathed  deep,  her  hands  clasped  in  strenuous 
recollection.  What  was  that  shadowy,  untouchable 
and  passing  sweep — that  vision  of  mystery  stung 
into  being  at  one  swift  look.  It  was  so  fair  she  had 
not  dared  to  look  again.  And  now  love — alas !  he 
was  so  slow  in  coming  back  to  her  from  the  unat- 
tainable, what  could  she  do  but  bow  her  head  and 
wait  ?  Clasping  the  crucifix  at  her  girdle,  she  sank 
upon  her  knees,  her  face  hidden  in  her  arms,  and  so 
kneeling  bowed  upon  the  window-ledge  and  prayed. 

"Is  he  coming?  I  have  waited — and  my  heart 
grows  heavy.  Mother  Mary,  let  me  die  or  send  him 
back  to  me  !  " 


86       A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR. 

She  knelt  till,  being  wearied  with  long  watching, 
edged  with  the  keen-set  fret  of  youth,  she  fell 
asleep. 

She  was  so  young  to  stand  against  the  world,  all 
loving  woman  to  her  fingertips.  But  Algitha  had 
to  the  full  that  quality  of  womanliness  which  makes 
the  heart  a  despot  and  all  the  life  a  willing  slavery. 
Her  northern  blood  transmuted  passion  into 
steadfastness.  She  was  that  true  and  blind  idola- 
ter who  believes  all  things  and  endures  all  things  for 
love's  sake. 

Presently  a  foot  came  blundering  up  the  stair, 
a  slow  deliberate  foot  that  blundered  only  because 
the  way  was  dark  and  strange.  Then  a  hand  fell 
on  the  fastening  of  the  door — Algitha  had  been 
condemned  to  prison  by  her  father  for  many  days. 
The  door  turned  wailing  on  its  hinges,  but  Algitha 
slept  on. 

A  mighty  man  stepped  into  the  room,  and,  glanc- 
ing round  in  the  glow  of  evening  light  reflected  from 
outside,  smiled  as  if  satisfied.  Although  of  only 
medium  height,  Gauthier  de  Morlaix  was  of  vast 
build.  The  short  hair  under  the  small  Norman  cap 
showed  a  red  so  dark  that  it  seemed  almost  brown. 
His  eyes  were  also  reddish-brown  and  brilliant  with 
the  hue  which  adds  to  insolence  and  shrewd  speech 
a  point  and  colour  of  its  own.  His  tunic  was  edged 
with  heavy  gold,  and  his  huge  legs  cross-gartered  in 
the  style  which  he  had  learned  in  England. 

He  eyed  the  girl's  form  before  he  spoke. 


A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR.       87 

"  Lady,"  he  said  and  paused. 

Algitha  moved  in  her  sleep  and  sighed,  falling 
half-prone  against  the  wall,  her  head  upon  her 
breast,  her  hands  dropped  sideways  across  her 
knees.  The  Norman  could  not  see  her  face  for  the 
golden  cloud  of  hair,  but  the  soft  abandonment  of 
her  attitude  and  the  half-open  palms  betrayed 
her.  He  drew  softly  nearer,  his  great  passion  work- 
ing with  his  will,  and  having  looked  upon  her  for  a 
moment  stooped  like  a  hawk. 

He  withheld  his  hand,  no  touch  fell  on  her,  yet 
as  if  struck  into  life  by  the  fire  of  his  look  she 
awakened,  flinging  back  her  heavy  hair,  her  wide 
blue  eyes  meeting  his  in  terror. 

He  smiled  a  little,  conscious  of  his  power. 

"  Why  are  you  here  ?  "  she  panted. 

With  him  she  had  always  been  before  of  a  still 
and  calm  demeanour,  but  crouching  helpless  there 
so  close  to  him  beneath  the  cruel  hovering  face,  she 
could  not  choose  but  tremble. 

"  Lady,  because  I  love  you." 

"  Stand  back  for  I  would  rise." 

"  Rise,  sweetheart,  rise  to  my  heart ;  it  is  my 
long-pending  prayer."  The  smile  lingered  still 
upon  his  lips. 

With  the  craft  of  the  weak  she  accused  him. 

"You  do  not  love!" 

He  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  Nay,  but  I  know  that  I  do  love,  and  that  to  my 
cost  too  !  "  But  he  laughed  still. 


88       A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR. 

"  Not  so,  Sir  Gauthier,  for  love  is  always  humble." 

"  Am  I  not  humble  then  ? — what  would  you  have  ? 
Have  I  not  stood  like  some  beggar  at  your  gate  and 
craved  your  dole  ?  " 

"  A  beggar  ?  "  She  knelt,  and  holding  by  the 
window-ledge  stood  swiftly  upright.  "  No,  but  a 
pirate  who  clangs  at  the  outer  ward  and  shouts 
'  Give  me  that  which  you  possess,  and  be  my  ser- 
vant or  I  will  destroy  you.'  ' 

"  So  lovers  cry  in  the  songs  of  your  own  land, 
and  maids  have  hearkened  with  kind  ears  ere  now. 
It  is  a  part  of  love's  strategy." 

"  A  cruel  strategy  when  the  maiden  is  defence- 
less. Should  not  love  be  also  pitiful."  Like  some 
wild  creature  that  fears  a  trap  she  stood  at  bay. 

"  In  truth,  yes  !  "  he  agreed  jauntily  ;  "  and  there- 
fore I  am  here." 

"  What  ?  "  She  bent  towards  him,  a  new  light  in 
her  blue  eyes.  "  Is  there  then  hope  for  me  ?" 

"Yes,  if  you  let  me  turn  your  question  back  upon 
yourself  and  ask  if  there  be  hope  for  me?" 

His  air  of  careless  gallantry  galled  her — careless 
yet  untiring  and  sure  of  the  event.  She  met  his 
eyes  but  her  own  dropped  on  the  instant,  for  this 
cold,  confident,  remorseless  man  had  the  power  to 
shame  her  with  his  gaze.  With  flushing  face  she 
turned  her  back  upon  him  as  if  to  scan  the  sea. 

"  Leave  me,  I  pray  you  !     I  am  weary." 

"  Lady  Algitha,"  he  said  with  contemptuous 
toleration,  "  I  have  long  borne  with  you.  But  now 


A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR.       89 

you  are  woman  grown  and  know  that  man's  love 
may  not  be  so  lightly  set  aside.  You  are  as  a  bird 
in  my  hand,  yet  I  have  come  once  more  to  ask  you 
in  all  courtesy  to  wed  me."  He  stooped  and  tak- 
ing up  the  golden  hem  of  her  blue  over-gown,  made 
as  if  he  would  have  kissed  it.  But  she  twitched  it 
from  his  grasp. 

"•That  I  have  already  answered.     Go  !  " 

The  action  in  its  open  loathing  pricked  him 
through  his  solid  self-conceit. 

"  What  is  there  in  me  that  you  should  hate  me  ?  " 
he  cried,  astonished. 

She  showed  a  scornful  lip  over  her  shoulder. 

"  What  is  there  in  you,  good  Sir  Gauthier,  that 
any  heart  could  warm  to  you  for  having?" 

Gauthier  glanced  down  at  his  own  limbs  in  their 
well-formed  maturity,  then  threw  back  his  head  full 
satisfied. 

"  I  have  known  praise,"  he  said  with  sly  mild- 
ness. 

"Aye,  for  many  fear  you." 

"  And  favour — woman's  favour." 

"  Favour  may  be  bought — not  love." 

"  What  ? — it  is  not  possible  to  love  one  who  is  at 
least  a  man,  and  strong,  and  some  say  brave  ?  " 

"  Strong  to  fight  for  your  own  self — brave  to  op- 
press the  defenceless  !  Why  will  you  not  leave  me, 
seeing  how  I  loathe  you  !  " 

"  In  what  can  I  alter  myself  to  win  your  favour, 
sweetheart  ?  " 


90      A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR. 

-  "Why!"  she  cried;  "but  God  Himself  could 
alter  you  enough  to  please  me  !  " 

At  last  she  had  touched  him.  But  Gauthier  de 
Morlaix  did  not  swear  as  other  men  ;  he  held  his 
wrath  cold,  reserving  deeps  of  energy  for  unswerv- 
ing purpose.  His  silence  almost  cowed  her.  He 
understood  the  little  shiver  which  she  could  not 
overcome. 

"  Yet  I  can  alter  you,"  he  said  with  deliberate 
slowness.  "  I  came  in  all  courtesy  to  win  you  to 
my  wish  :  call  you  that  oppression  ?  You  have  no 
champion,  and  I  would  have  saved  you  from  what 
the  morning  light  must  bring.  You  are  accused  of 
witchcraft,  Lady  Algitha,  and  to-morrow  judgment 
waits  upon  you — to-morrow  the  ordeal  of  the  ques- 
tion may  touch  that  fair  body  of  yours  ruefully  and 
leave  it  no  more  to  be  desired." 

Algitha  flashed  round  upon  him. 

"Then  I  should  be  free  of  that  which  now  I 
hate!" 

But  Gauthier  de  Morlaix  was  not  again  to  be 
moved  by  flouting,  while  he  held  the  poor  flouter 
in  his  grasp. 

"So?  A  woman  never  yet  rejoiced  in  the  ruin  of 
her  beauty,  and  you,  lady,  are  very  woman  through 
and  through.  For  that  more  than  all  else  have  I 
desired  you.  But —  '  his  voice  changed  to  slow 
mockery, — "  the  chevaliers,  seeing  you  are  beautiful 
and  have  injured  me  alone,  may  resolve  it  were  pity 
to  spoil  so  much  of  Heaven's  fair  work  and  give 


A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR.       91 

you  to  me  to  do  with  as  I  may  desire.  Shall  I  not 
do  as  I  will  then — take  my  own  without  the  ask- 
ing ?  and  who  knows,  cast  that  which  may  no  more 
content  me  to  my  serfs  ?  " 

"  I  can  die !  "  the  girl  cried. 

"  Aye,  in  Heaven's  good  time,  not  when  you 
will." 

"  You  alone  are  my  accuser — you,  who  say  you 
love  me !  — Are  we  not  driven  here,  poor,  exiled 
and  outcast  by  your  false  swearing  ?  If  I  should 
be  condemned  to-morrow  and  die  some  dreadful 
death,  you  will  be  guilty  of  my  blood — you — " 

"  Nay,  you  shall  not  die  to-morrow,"  said  the 
Norman  easily. 

The  girl's  proud  spirit  was  not  daunted.  She 
raised  her  shoulders  with  a  gesture  of  disdain. 

"Do  all  these  things  you  threaten  and  yet  I  can 
escape  you.  I  may  die  soon  or  after  many  years, 
but  whenever  my  last  day  comes  I  will  die  still  hat- 
ing you,  Gauthier  de  Morlaix  !  No  power  of  yours 
can  conquer  that." 

She  turned  away  once  more  and  leaned  upon  the 
window,  her  fair  head  and  her  shoulders  outlined 
there.  She  leaned  so  a  moment  curiously  still,  then 
with  a  glad  sob  she  spoke  again. 

"  But  I  am  not  yet  condemned  nor  are  you  yet 
the  conqueror,  my  lord  !  " 

"  Where  is  your  champion  ?  It  would  seem  as  if 
all  men  grew  laggards  in  your  cause." 

"  Save   one  !  "   she  cried.     "  See,  his  ship  comes 


92       A  BLUE  TRANSLUCENT  HOUR. 

rushing  from  the  night.  Make  way,  Sir  Gauthier,  I 
would  call  my  maidens  and  prepare  myself  to  meet 
him." 

"  His  ship  ?     Who  is  this  lingering  champion  ?  " 

Gauthier  looked  at  her  with  a  derisive  question 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Goyault,  lord  of  Gros-Nez  and  St.  Ouen  in 
Gersay."  In  the  vehement  gladness  of  the  moment 
she  smiled  her  exultant  answer. 

"  My  witch  has  a  lover  after  all !  "  said  the  Nor- 
man with  an  evil  significance,  then  stooped  to 
descend  the  stairway. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SWEET  AND   SWIFT. 

A  PARAMOUNT  desire  grows  and  expels  the  rabble 
of  smaller  thought.  So  it  was  with  Goyault  as  his 
ship,  leaving  the  tempest  behind  it,  strained  shore- 
wards  towards  the  sunset.  Against  the  light  Jo- 
bourg  on  its  crags  shone  like  a  picture  in  an  arc  of 
blue,  each  grey  line  acutely  clear  after  the  summer 
tempest.  Forgotten  were  all  the  perplexities  of 
the  hour  and  of  his  errand.  He  no  longer  looked 
at  happiness  through  another  man's  eyes.  He 
mused  upon  the  overthrow  of  Morlaix  as  the  gate 
which  led  to  joy,  unclouded  joy.  The  lover's 
doubts  which  might  under  less  difficult  circum- 
stances have  beset  him  were  not  his.  As  in  a  room 
of  mirrors  one  sees  a  single  face  reflected,  so  all  the 
air  reverberated  the  image  of  Algitha,  the  half-aver- 
ted blushed  girl  of  two  years  ago.  His  buoyant 
nature,  revolting  against  the  strain  of  unwonted 
sadness,  leaped  to  meet  her  whom  his  soul  desired. 

Now  that  the  square  shell  of  Jobourg  loomed  up 
in  black  shadow  and  sparkling  sunset  gleams  above 
him,  his  eyes  viewed  and  reviewed  the  whole.  The 
keenness  of  the  lover's  mood  burned  in  him.  He 
made  a  dalliance  with  delight  ;  anticipation  of  see- 


94  SWEET  AND  SWIFT. 

ing  her  he  loved  again  overpowered  him  with  its 
stinging  fragrance. 

Round  the  rocky  feet  of  Jobourg  the  water 
churned  and  thundered.  There  was  no  landing- 
place,  therefore  Goyault  suffered  the  steersman  to 
turn  the  leopard's  head  into  the  broad  channel 
which  lies  between  Grenezay  and  the  string  of 
islands  which  curve  about  her  sides.  Goyault 
burned  with  impatience  as  they  forged  slowly  along 
the  mile  or  two  of  lofty  coast  ere  sweeping  before 
the  shifting  wind  into  an  oblong  bay,  where,  clos- 
ing a  vista  of  two  lines  of  foam,  a  little  kindly 
beach  disclosed  itself. 

As  the  boat  rushed  up  upon  a  wave  and  touched 
Goyault  leaped  forth  upon  the  sand,  yet  even  then 
was  forced  to  tarry  whilst  his  following  came  ashore  : 
he  could  not  present  himself  without  due  formality 
at  Jobourg.  Ere  their  ordering  was  half  completed, 
from  the  rugged  slopes  above  a  band  of  men  came 
streaming  down  to  meet  him.  At  their  head  Earl 
Algar,  a  broad  Saxon,  his  fair  hair  falling  to  his 
shoulders  and  a  long  moustache  drooping  far  below 
his  chin.  A  brooch  crusted  with  jewels  fastened 
his  cloak  upon  one  side,  leaving  free  a  great  arm 
covered  with  heavy  bracelets. 

Goyault  hardly  heard  the  words  with  which  the 
greeting  passed,  for  was  not  this  the  father  of  her 
he  loved  ?  Nevertheless  he  told  a  glib  tale  of  Kara- 
dac  while  his  heart  beat  in  his  ears.  With  a  fine 
vagueness  he  gave  it  to  be  understood  that  he 


SWEET  AND  SWIFT.  95 

represented  his  liege,  the  Count  of  Gersay,  in  so 
far  that  had  not  misfortune  intervened,  Karadac 
would  have  come  in  person  to  the  jousts.  As  it 
was,  Goyault  professed  himself  ready  to  champion 
the  cause  of  the  Lady  Algitha  without  promise  of 
reward,  save  only  that  which  she  might  choose  in 
her  kindness  afterward  to  bestow. 

To  all  this  Algar  answered  handsomely,  and  led 
on  by  ancient  friendship  and  the  young  man's 
kindly  aspect  poured  forth  his  woes  and  disappoint- 
ments to  the  only  ears  in  Grenezay  he  had  not  yet 
awearied  with  them. 

"  Exiled  and  beggared  and  a  wanderer,  good  sieur 
Goyault,  all  for  a  girl's  folly,  see  you  how  hard  my 
case?  I  knew  not  where  to  fly,  till  my  daughter, 
who  in  truth  is  not  so  great  a  fool  as  her  rashness 
might  suggest  to  you,  reminded  me  of  Sir  Jean  de 
Jobourg.  In  memory  of  favours  done  him  in  time 
past  by  my  good  brother  Brithric  Maude,  he  re- 
ceived us — with  some  secret  grudging  it  may  be, 
but  I  recked  not  of  it.  I  hoped  we  had  escaped 
but  this  embittered  Norman  has,  it  seems,  no  room 
for  two  ideas  in  his  head,  and  still  hankered  for  the 
maid.  So  he  has  followed  us  and  stirred  up  strife 
afresh.  He,  with  a  round  half-dozen  of  his  friends, 
dwells  with  the  knight  Sampson  d'Anneville,  to 
whom  Duke  Robert  gave  in  fief  a  third  part  of  this 
isle.  Had  I  not  sixty  heavy  years  upon  my  back,  I 
should  throw  down  the  glove  to  Morlaix  myself ! 
As  it  is,  I  thank  the  Saints  that  you  ask  nothing  of 


96  SWEET  AND  SWIFT. 

my  girl,  for  no  promise  \villshe  grant  to  any  knight, 
be  he  of  Normandy  or  Grenezay.  She  is  bewitched 
herself,  I  say,  whereas  Gauthier  has  accused  her  of 
casting  evil  spells  of  sorcery  upon  him." 

"  To-morrow  we  will  answer  him." 

"Aye,  I  would  that  you  had  another  day  to  rest, 
but  the  Court  of  Chevaliers  meets  by  the  Duke's 
command  to-morrow  to  decide  cases  of  moment 
within  these  shores.  Four  knights,  two  of  this 
island,  Jean  de  Jobourg  and  Sampson  d'Anneville, 
the  two  knights  sent  hither  from  Normandy,  will 
see  justice  done.  This  is  their  custom  every  year, 
and  may  God  uphold  the  right  !  " 

So  they  climbed  the  steep  and  waited,  and  when 
all  had  reached  the  level  ground,  Algar  cried  out, 
"A  horse — you  have  no  horse  !  " 

"  By  reason  of  the  tempest  it  could  not  be  em- 
barked." 

"  Surely  misfortune  follows  us  ! — I  will  lend  you 
of  the  best  I  can,  but  alas,  the  horses  in  this  island 
are  but  small  and  light,  whereas  Gauthier  has  a 
large  Flemish  steed,  surely  misfortunes  dog  me  !  " 

But  Goyault  was  in  no  way  daunted.  He  would 
fain  have  cheered  the  older  man,  but  Algar  grum- 
bled on  with  Saxon  relish  until  they  reached  a 
triple  bank  with  fosse  between  them  which  crossed 
the  isthmus  of  the  headland  where  Jobourg  stood, 
an  ancient  line  of  defence  and  now  used  by  the  de- 
scendants of  the  very  race  against  whose  inroads  it 
was  built. 


SWEET  AND  SWIFT.  97 

Beyond  it  rose  the  true  entrance  gate,  flanked  by 
small  towers  and  surmounted  by  a  guardroom. 
This  gate  formed  the  buckle  of  a  tall  belt  of  outer 
wall ;  within  it  drawn  to  a  smaller  circle  was  a  second 
wall,  old  and  ruinous,  patched  with  earth  and  rub- 
ble, and  against  it  built  poor  sheds  of  reed  to  give 
shelter  to  the  poorer  sort  of  man  and  beast.  The 
keep  itself,  new  built  by  Jean  of  Jobourg  under 
command  of  Duke  Robert,  shone  sharp  and  spark- 
ling in  the  evening  light,  and  beside  it  clung  a 
wooden  building  which  their  host  had  raised  to  give 
accommodation  to  his  English  guests. 

A  great  courtyard  lay  westward  of  the  castle  to 
the  inner  wall.  Here  it  was  that  Jean  de  Jobourg 
waited  to  receive  the  late-come  champion.  The  tall 
English  Earl  led  Goyault  forward,  and  as  he  did  so 
the  soft  clatter  of  a  shutter  opened  sounded  overhead. 

Goyault  was  in  the  full  buoyancy  and  flush  of  ex- 
pectation. Handsome,  debonnair,  his  young  heroic 
figure  moved  across  the  open  space  with  the  free 
tread  of  hope  and  courage.  He  was  living  without 
reservation  in  the  present,  and  the  glow  of  feeling 
lit  his  face  as  a  lamp  is  lighted  from  within.  It 
was  the  day  on  which  his  manhood  burst  into  its 
flower. 

Algitha,  watching  from  above,  all  over-flushed 
with  joy  and  pride  of  him,  told  herself  that  her 
heart  had  rightly  judged  in  those  old  days  in  Eng- 
land, when  it  had  chosen  and  crowned  him  for  her 
king.  Seen  again  the  sunny  eyes  and  gallant  bear- 


98  SWEET  AND  SWIFT. 

ing  seemed  to  have  gained  not  lost  in  charm.  A 
young  god  born  of  the  northern  ice-clouds  and 
warmed  to  life  by  breathings  of  the  south, — a  knight 
matchless  upon  the  field,  or  challenging  with  a 
glance  of  suppliant  worship  his  lady's  eyes.  So  her 
mind  rang  changes  of  sweet  bells  that  echoed  each 
one  name — Goyault ! 

After  some  time  the  meaning  of  the  words  uttered 
below  reached  Algitha. 

"  You  come,  seigneur,  to  represent  the  Count  of 
Gersay  ?  "  Jean  de  Jobourg  spoke. 

Goyault  hesitated.  Karadac  or  himself  ?  And 
in  the  pause  a  sound  of  straining  wood,  for  Algitha 
bent  forward  to  hear  the  answer,  pushing  back  the 
shutter  as  she  moved. 

Goyault  raised  his  eyes.  There  in  the  last  glow 
of  sunset,  as  Karadac  had  seen  her  picture  first, 
Goyault  now  saw  herself  full-breathing,  all  her  deli- 
cate beauty  framed  in  the  old  grey  wall.  A  swift  en- 
counter with  those  blue  radiant  eyes,  a  wind-blown 
cloud  of  golden  hair,  and  she  was  gone  ! 

"  By  my  faith,  my  lord  of  Jobourg,  I  am  here  to 
represent  myself  !  Count  Karadac  had  also  come 
but  for  his  new-gotten  wound.  The  Lady  Algitha 
might,  had  she  so  willed,  have  sent  two  champions 
to  the  lists  to  uphold  her  righteous  cause.  Where 
is  her  accuser?  " 

But  his  quick  glance  had  long  ago  picked  out  the 
powerful  pale  face  and  chestnut  head  of  Gauthier 
from  the  circle  of  clean-shaven  Normans  who  stood 
around. 


SWEET  AND  SWIFT.  99 

"  Him  you  shall  meet  to-morrow  at  the  Court  of 
the  Chevaliers  which  will  be  held  at  Les  Landes," 
Sir  Jean  answered.  "There  he  will  set  forth  his 
wrongs  and  the  evil  workings  whereby  he  swears 
the  Lady  Algitha  has  striven  to  undo  him.  There 
also  shall  you  have  opportunity  to  traverse  his  ac- 
cusations." 

Goyault  glanced  haughtily  from  eye  to  eye  of 
the  assemblage  circled  round.  He  longed  to  defy 
the  whole  earth  for  her  sake,  so  hot  his  blood 
coursed  in  him  at  that  hour. 

Gauthier  de  Morlaix  needed  no  second  invitation 
to  show  himself.  With  a  stately  stride  he  moved 
into  the  centre  of  the  scene,  for  he  was  one  who 
spite  all  his  coldness  loved  to  fill  the  eye  of  the 
crowd  and  win  applause. 

"  I  am  here,  Goyault  of  St.  Ouen.  What  do  you 
desire  of  me  ?  " 

"  To  thrust  back  the  lie  into  your  throat  ! "  cried 
out  Goyault,  the  spark  struck  from  him  unaware  by 
Morlaix'  placid  arrogance. 

Gauthier  threw  back  his  head  in  a  loud  guffaw  of 
laughter  which  was  echoed  among  the  bystanders  : 
many  wished  to  stand  well  with  the  Norman  baron  ; 
besides,  there  is  no  combination  more  popular  with 
the  multitude  than  brute  force  and  self-assertion. 

"  So  you  shall,  youngster,  at  the  sword's  point — 
if  you  can  in  the  lists."  Gauthier's  reply  held  a 
covert  ridicule  which  stung  the  more  because  it  in- 
cluded no  slightest  trace  of  resentment. 


ioo  SWEET  AND  SWIFT. 

There  was  another  laugh  at  Goyault's  expense. 

Goyault  waited  until  it  died.  He  had  been  For- 
tune's child  too  long  not  to  know  how  to  make  a 
cast  for  public  favour.  He  crossed  to  Gauthier's 
side,  glancing  up  and  down  the  big  man  to  em- 
phasise the  difference  of  bulk,  and  said  with  a  smile  : 

"  The  ass  brayed  and  kicked  up  his  heels  until  a 
little  dog  came  and  bit  him." 

It  was  a  common  jest  among  the  soldiery  of  the 
time,  but  it  fell  so  apt  upon  the  occasion  that  it 
told,  catching  the  humour  of  the  crowd.  A  shout 
followed,  but  the  sound  ceased  with  some  abrupt- 
ness as  the  laughers  recollected  at  whose  expense 
they  laughed.  A  sheepish  look  passed  round,  and 
every  eye  turned  towards  Gauthier  in  admiring 
expectation. 

Callous  and  complacent,  the  Norman  was  always 
ready  to  outrage  the  self-respect  of  others  by 
brutal  words,  but  he  carried  no  verbal  weapon  with 
which  to  play  an  adversary.  Men  of  his  character 
have  little  use  for  such  :  they  rule  by  the  iron  hand 
and  their  methods  admit  of  little  responsive  move- 
ment. Therefore  Gauthier,  taken  at  unawares  by 
Goyault's  gibe,  could  find  no  better  answer  than  a 
threat. 

"  By  the  splendour  of  God,  to-morrow  the  cur 
shall  have  a  bloody  tongue  to  laugh  with !  "  he 
swore. 

But  oath  and  anger  gave  Goyault  no  concern. 
He  was  presently  led  into  the  presence  of  Algitha. 


SWEET  AND  SWIFT,  101 

He  stood  before  her  and  could  not  raise  his  eyes, 
although  warmly  conscious  of  the  clinging  robe  of 
white  close-drawn  about  her  throat,  and  the  fall  and 
rise  of  the  over-gown  of  blue  which  told  of  hurried 
breathing.  Her  long  hair  as  of  old  fell  waving  and 
luxuriant  about  her  shoulders  and  slender  waist. 
But  her  eyes — what  would  they  tell  him  in  the  first 
look? 

"  You  have  come  to  be  my  champion.  I  thank 
you,  Sir  Goyault." 

Her  voice  seemed  to  break  the  charm  that  kept 
him  mute  and  fearful.  He  knelt  before  her  with  a 
sudden  gallant  grace,  and  smiling  up  into  her  shin- 
ing eyes  he  answered. 

"Did  you  not  know  that  I  should  come,  lady? 
You  needed  me." 

"  No,  for  I  am  a  poor  damsel  who  lacks  cham- 
pions. Have  they  not  told  you  so  much  of  my 
story  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  was  glad."  He  was  upon  his  feet 
again,  and  the  answer  rang. 

"  Glad  ?     Then  I  am  forlorn  of  hope  indeed  !  " 

Unlike  Karadac,  Goyault  was  a  lover  born. 
High  qualities  may  rule  the  world,  but  near  at  hand 
it  is  the  natural  gift  which  captures  the  senses. 

"  I  have  heard  all,"  he  said  simply,  but  the  words 
seemed  to  carry  a  score  of  meanings  to  her.  "  I 
should  have  neither  part  nor  lot  in  your  defence, 
lady,  had  another  taken  upon  him  to  be  your  cham- 
pion." 


102  SWEET  AND  SWIFT. 

Algitha  hid  her  smile  in  her  own  heart,  and 
raised  grave  eyes. 

"  How  had  you  tidings  of  my  need  ?  " 

"  They  brought  your  picture  to  Gersay,  and  I 
looked  on  it." 

"  The  picture?  "  she  repeated  softly  ;  "  had  you 
forgotten  then  ?  " 

"  Forgotten  the  banks  of  Avon  and  the  mornings 
in  the  meadows  ? — No  !  " 

She  drew  back  before  his  vehemence,  her  cheeks 
flushing.  All  her  thoughts  were  stirred  and  sweet 
and  swift.  She  was  filled  with  a  strange  weakness. 
She  felt  the  whelming  pulse  of  hidden  things.  In 
the  same  far-off  way  she  saw  Goyault,  the  idealisa- 
tion of  unremembered  dreams.  How  his  name  had 
dwelt  with  her!  An  empty  echo  long,  which  might 
one  day  mean  much.  And  now  he  was  here,  the 
name  she  loved  incarnate  !  She  recalled  his  fierce- 
ness in  the  courtyard,  the  challenge  of  his  eyes,  and 
her  heart  thrilled.  The  thrill  ran  into  her  tone  as 
she  faltered  : 

"  Those  days  were  long  ago." 

"  They  seem  to  me  like  yesterday  now  that  we 
meet  again,"  answered  Goyault  and  checked  himself. 

Her  aspect  changed. 

"  Many  yesterdays  of  sadness  lie  between  me  and 
that  past  time.  Even  to-day  I  believed  I  had  no 
champion,  that  my  messenger  had  failed." 

"  The  messenger  you  sent  to  Gersay  ?  "  Goyault 
spoke  carelessly,  but  with  a  secret  throb. 


SWEET  AND  SWIFT.  103 

But  Algitha  was  woman  enough  to  see  at  once 
the  pitfall  of  that  admission.  A  covert  light  flashed 
under  her  white  lids  as  she  replied : 

"  I  had  heard  many  tales  of  the  great  Count 
Karadac  of  Gersay.  A  noble  knight  who  succours 
the  distressed,  and  wields  withal  an  arm  has  never 
failed  to  pluck  victory  on  the  field,"  then  stopped 
amazed,  for  at  her  words  the  colour  faded  under  the 
knight's  bronze. 

"  True,  lady,  great  is  Karadac.  And  he  has 
charged  me  with  a  message  for  your  ears.  He  was 
on  the  way  to  your  relief  and  aid  when  the  tempest 
fell  upon  us,  and  riding  through  the  haunted  forests 
of  the  isle  a  hand  out  of  the  blank  darkness  struck 
him  blind." 

Algitha  shuddered. 

"  It  seems  my  cause  is  accursed  indeed  ;  "  softly 
below  her  breath  she  spoke  the  thought  in  fear. 

"  I  have  won  through,  lady.  Be  not  sad.  Heaven 
chooses  its  own  champions,  and  yours  is  a  holy  ap- 
peal to  judgment  of  the  right." 

"  If  Karadac  had  escaped,  he  would  have  been 
my  champion  ?" 

"  Then  two  champions  would  have  answered  at 
the  lists  in  your  name,  Lady  Algitha." 

"  Alas,  I  see  you  but  espouse  my  cause  a  second- 
hand !  At  best  a  makeshift ! — I  am  grateful  as  be- 
comes me,  but  I  can  accept  no  proxy  chivalry  at 
your  hand." 

Goyault  in  love  was  blind  as  other  men. 


104  SWEET  AND  SWIFT. 

"  Mine  is  no  proxy  chivalry,"  he  urged,  feeling  a 
sudden  blankness.  "  I  am  in  truth  a  lesser  knight 
than  the  great  Count  whose  undimmed  fame — " 

Algitha  raised  a  white  hand. 

"  Oh,  Count  Karadac — the  great  Count,  enough 
of  him." 

Hope  flushed  to  life  once  more  in  Goyault. 

"  Hear  me,"  he  cried  ;  "  I  fight  in  no  man's  name 
but  my  own.  For  my  own  right  hand  I  do  battle. 
Goyault  de  Gros-Nez  in  this  adventure  calls  no  man 
lord." 

"  Not  to-night,"  said  the  level  voice  of  Gauthier, 
"  but  to-morrow  may  give  you  a  master." 

"  Yourself,  Sir  Gauthier  ?  "  Goyault  faced  round 
upon  the  group  of  Normans  who  had  just  entered 
the  hall. 

Gauthier  shook  his  big  head  solemnly. 

"  Not  I,  in  sooth,  but  one  whom  some  men  na«ne 
Beelzebub." 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  DEAD   EAGLE. 

THE  hour  of  Goyault 'scorning  was  but  a  lull.  The 
storm  returned  to  spend  itself  in  double  fury  with 
black  clouds  that  lowered  and  gaped  in  fire,  black 
hurtling  water  underneath,  and  all  the  air  gone  mad 
with  screaming  winds.  While  the  dying  twilight  yet 
lingered  Goyault,  torn  with  unsettled  purpose,  took 
his  way  without  the  castle  walls.  He  craved  to  be 
alone  with  his  doubts  and  dreams.  His  outlook  on 
the  world  was  hostile,  which  troubled  him — the 
world  was  an  old  friend  with  whom  he  had  had  but 
little  falling-out  before.  But  this  predicament  left 
him  at  cross-purposes  with  every  easy  code  of  life 
that  heretofore  had  served  him  very  well. 

He  wandered  along  the  broken  heights  above  the 
sea.  To  force  his  way  against  the  storm  midst 
soaking  grass  and  wind-flung  briers  that  laced  his 
sides  with  thorns,  to  face  the  pelting  rain,  to  draw 
an  angry  pleasure  from  the  contest  with  the  gale — 
all  these  things  met  his  humour  and  gave  escape 
and  rest  from  clamorous  thought. 

He  would  rest  betimes  and  review  the  whole  un- 
certain project  of  to-morrow — decide  how  to  deal 


106  THE  DEAD  EAGLE. 

with  claims  and  aims  that  waged  this  same  sore  con- 
flict in  his  soul. 

At  length,  worn  out  with  struggling  in  the  gale's 
teeth,  he  crept  under  a  tall  thicket  in  a  fold  of  rock; 
thick  summer  foliage  sheltered  him,  and  within  an 
arching  of  dry  old  branches  gave  him  air  and  space. 
He  rested  on  a  jutting  stone,  his  head  upon  his 
hands.  And  as  the  stress  of  breathing  passed,  the 
waiting  question  and  uncertainty  sprang  on  him 
and  shook  him.  But  by  degrees  that  also  passed 
away,  and  in  a  drowsy  sweet  exhaustion  Algitha 
and  all  her  nameless  attributes  of  charm,  thoughts 
past,  present  and  to  come,  of  which  she  formed  the 
core,  so  led  him  on  that  he  was  quickly  lost  to  all 
but  tender  musing  on  that  endless  theme.  Her 
swift  faint  smiles,  the  pink  finger-nails  with  their 
dawning  moons,  a  straying  lock  that  clung  about 
her  ear,  the  queenlike  column  of  her  white  throat 
as  she  glanced  at  Gauthier  in  the  hall — Algitha, 
Algitha !  each  recollection  seemed  to  be  more  over- 
filled with  aching  sweetness  than  the  last. 

So  deep  was  Goyault  drowned  in  such  imaginings 
that  he  forgot  the  raging  turmoil  of  the  gale.  The 
sea  roared  hoarsely  as  it  shocked  and  strained 
against  the  hundred-pointed  rocks  below,  and  min- 
gling with  its  voice  another  cry  resounded  amongst 
the  wild  lashing  of  all  created  things.  Harsh 
screams  that  jarred,  one  close  upon  another  in 
quick  convulsive  riot,  and  then  ceased,  only  to  rise 
again  when  a  fresh  agony  of  rage  or  struggle  woke. 


THE  DEAD  EAGLE.  107 

For  a  time  Goyault  heard  it  dimly  and  it  harassed 
him,  shaking  him  almost  from  the  dear  oblivion  of 
his  dream.  Then  in  the  pause  he  would  sink  back 
into  his  languorous  thoughts.  At  length  the  noises 
touched  his  consciousness.  Like  one  who  wakens 
from  a  sleep  he  stretched  out  his  arms  and  listened. 
At  the  instant  the  wind  dropped  to  gather  force  for 
a  fiercer  onslaught,  and  in  the  pause  he  heard  those 
jagged  creaking  screams  and  a  wild  fluttering  near 
at  hand. 

The  hunter's  instinct  roused  him.  Moving  noise- 
lessly, he  crept  from  his  harbourage,  following  the 
sound,  but  it  died  suddenly  and  left  him  clinging 
on  an  open  scarp  of  hill.  He  looked  upwards  at  the 
sky,  where  behind  the  flying  wrack  a  dull  radiance 
gleamed,  and  against  the  gleam  of  sky  a  group  of 
blown  pines  shivered.  From  a  deep  brake  of  un- 
derbrush at  their  feet,  as  Goyault  looked,  two  red 
eyes  flared  at  him  across  the  dark. 

In  those  old  days  men  feared  many  things  ;  all 
that  was  unknown,  mysterious  and  obscure,  and 
much  that  could  be  called  by  none  of  these  names, 
only  the  common  facts  of  daily  life  for  the  moment 
wrapt  in  some  disguise  of  myth  or  circumstance  or 
dream.  So  Goyault  leaned  against  the  wind  upon 
a  halting  foot,  and  waited  for  the  starshine.  And 
the  red  eyes  glimmered  balefully  upon  him. 

Presently  a  torn  rag  of  cloud  let  out  the  light  he 
waited  for,  and  then  he  saw  the  eyes  were  set 
within  a  shallow  head,  the  head  of  some  great  bird 


io8  THE  DEAD  EAGLE. 

wind-struck  into  the  thicket  and  there  held  im- 
prisoned by  brambles  and  rank  inwoven  thorns  and 
foliage.  The  man  worked  round,  and  climbing  up 
the  hill  slid  down  among  the  pines,  and  so  coming 
upon  the  prisoner  unaware  he  caught  the  taloned 
feet  and  bound  them  straight.  Then  there  was 
hurled  upon  him  a  frenzied  resistance  of  wing  and 
beak,  a  vicious  gash  torn  open  in  his  hand,  as  he 
sought  to  capture  this  prize  alive,  but  the  wild  bird 
could  not  yield  ;  it  tried  a  hundred  tricks  and  slips 
of  warfare,  making  its  desperate  defence  till  Goyault, 
worn-out  and  angry,  wrung  its  neck. 

The  rift  had  widened  in  the  heaven,  and  Goyault 
saw  his  captive  clearly,  a  great  eagle  with  a  broken 
wing,  lying  dead  upon  the  sodden  grasses  of  the 
slope.  He  stood  and  looked  upon  it  with  a  shock 
of  strange  remorse.  He  had  slain  the  noble  bird  to 
glut  a  flush  of  rage.  Repentance  stirred  within 
him,  and  all  the  heaviness  of  ill-omened  acts.  Al- 
ways in  his  own  mind  he  had  held  the  eagle  to  be 
Karadac's  true  emblem.  And  the  storm  had  seized 
him,  and  flung  it  bruised  and  spent  with  broken 
wing  upon  the  shore  helpless  to  regain  its  liberty. 
There  he,  Goyault,  had  found  it,  and  when  it  fought 
for  right  and  freedom  had  foully  slain  it. 

What  but  evil  could  the  thing  portend?  God's 
tempest  had  blown  on  Karadac,  and  had  he  not  too 
been  flung  spent,  wounded,  undone  on  that  dim 
shore  called  blindness  ?  and  in  his  pain  had  called 
upon  Goyault  for  succour,  and  how  had  Goyault 


THE  DEAD  EAGLE.  109 

answered  him  ?  With  deception  and  false  oaths 
and  secret  enmity.  The  watcher  on  the  hillside 
hid  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  a  horror  of  himself 
and  of  his  shame  should  he  betray  his  oath  came 
over  him.  Old  friendship  surging  up  put  to  silence 
the  new  sweet  song  of  love.  Karadac  had  lost  all 
save  love,  and  that  also  Goyault  had  hoped  to  win 
from  him.  Oh  vile,  vile,  vile  ! 

In  the  exaltation  of  the  moment  Goyault  was 
ready  to  give  up  all.  Pity  for  Karadac,  hurt  almost 
to  death  by  the  overwhelming  loss,  appealed  to 
him  in  an  agony  of  emotion.  Under  the  guise  of 
the  dead  eagle  his  friend  seemed  to  lie  there  done 
to  death.  Old  times,  old  confidence,  old-forgotten 
words  crowded  back  upon  him,  killing  hope  but 
raising  up  into  a  quick  and  vivid  life  that  seed  of 
nobleness  which  lay  ready  to  blossom  in  a  noble 
deed.  Alas!  some  poor  sinners  cannot  sin  com- 
fortably, and  of  these  Goyault  was  one. 

Leaving  the  dead  bird  where  it  lay,  he  turned 
back  to  Jobourg,  driven  thither  by  a  sudden  deci- 
sion. He  was  Karadac's  friend,  he  was  his  sworn 
man,  but  it  was  as  neither  of  these  that  he  thrust 
impatiently  onward,  impelled  by  a  strong  resolve. 
No,  he  saw  in  himself  a  self-devoted  sacrifice,  ready 
to  renounce  life  and  more  than  life  for  the  sake  of 
the  trust  reposed  in  him. 

Through  the  dusk  the  fiery,  reproachful  eyes  of  the 
eagle  seemed  to  follow  him,  and  yet  it  was  the 
fierce  gaze  of  Karadac.  He  could  not  reason,  but 


no  THE  DEAD  EAGLE. 

there  was  a  terrible  analogy  in  his  thoughts  between 
its  fate  and  that  of  Karadac.  Goyault  would  fain 
have  saved  the  bird  alive,  and  yet  had  killed  it.  The 
idea  spurred  him  to  quick  effort  lest  by  some  hideous 
mischance  the  type  might  fulfil  itself.  Swayed  by 
his  impulse  he  rushed  on,  speaking  aloud. 

"  To-morrow  I  may  be  dead !  Aye,  I  will  be 
dead.  I  will  die  in  the  slaying  of  this  Gauthier,  and 
in  the  after-years  perhaps  she  will  remember  some- 
times ;  "  and  the  thought  of  his  own  martyrdom 
was  half-sweet  and  half-terrible  by  turns.  "  If  it 
had  been  any  other,  not  Karadac,"  he  groaned. 
"  O  Christ,  my  woe,  my  misery  !  " 

Yet  to  die  for  her,  to  save  her,  was  something. 
That  had  indeed  seemed  a  little  less  than  naught  a 
short  while  past,  but  with  the  human  rendering  of 
changeful  moods  proportion  alters,  and  this  or  that 
seems  great  or  small  as  the  lights  shift  within  the 
soul.  And  with  Goyault,  the  lights  though  always 
clear  were  all  too  apt  to  shift. 

He  must  see  Algitha  once  more  and  speak  with 
her,  and  afterwards  it  was  his  plan  to  bid  her  a  life's 
farewell.  For  if  he  survived  the  conflict  in  the  lists, 
it  was  his  intent  to  take  ship  and  cross  the  seas  to 
fight  God's  battle  in  the  Holy  Land.  His  would  be 
no  plainsaid  farewell ;  he  would  take  his  leave  in 
veiled  words  which  in  the  aftertime  she  might  re- 
call and  read  out  their  sad  meaning  through  her 
tears,  in  the  long  dead  and  endless  afternoons. 

The  thought  was  very  comforting  and  upheld  him 


THE  DEAD  EAGLE.  m 

bravely  for  a  space.  Yes,  he  must  win  speech  of 
her,  but  how  ?  Each  difficulty  in  his  path  allured 
him.  In  certain  phases  of  feeling  men  and  women 
take  a  strange  pleasure  in  picturing  out  the  scenes 
in  which  they  are  about  to  act  a  part ;  they  see 
themselves  saying  and  doing  that  which  they  design 
through  a  mist  of  fancy,  which  heighten  all  effects 
to  the  level  they  would  have  them  rise  to.  So 
Goyault  beheld  a  fair  scene  and  a  sad,  and  the  tears 
stung  his  eyes  although  it  was  painted  only  on  the 
air. 

As  he  climded  the  steep  by  Jobourg,  he  looked  up- 
wards at  the  piled  bulk  of  the  castle  towering  above. 
All  was  densely  black  there,  but  about  the  wooden 
building  by  its  side  he  saw  a  scattering  of  wind- 
smitten  lights  that  now  glowed  to  steady  flame,  now 
flickered  back  to  broken  luminance.  Goyault  stood 
below  the  shoulder  of  the  castle  where  was  her 
window,  lit  with  a  dim  flame,  and  some  one  leaned 
low  upon  the  sill  with  long  hair  fluttering  like  vine- 
tendrils  in  the  breeze. 

Before  a  word  was  spoken,  Goyault  knew  who 
this  lone  watcher  was,  and  as  a  sudden  wind  blows  a 
low-hanging  cloud  to  fragments  so  was  his  high 
mood  shattered  by  the  sight  of  her. 

Love  conquers  all,  or  why  were  men  born  young  ? 

A  whisper  fell  upon  him  from  above,  and  he  an- 
swered it. 

"  It  is  I,  Goyault." 

"  Sir,  I  would  speak  with  you,  but  I  cannot  come 


H2  THE  DEAD  EAGLE. 

to  you.  Yet  there  is  hold  for  a  crafty  foot  in  these 
rough  timbers — " 

There  was  no  need  to  answer,  only  softly  to  find 
the  crevices  until  he  reached  a  jutting  ledge  of  beam 
which  held  the  wooden  framework  to  the  tower 
wall. 

So  he  stood  beneath  the  window,  and  kissed  the 
sweet  hair  that  blew  about  his  face.  Stolen  kisses, 
and  he  would  have  laid  his  life  the  girl  knew  noth- 
ing of  them,  but  when  he  was  gone,  and  they  had 
said  good-night  at  length,  Algitha  gathered  up  her 
long  tresses  in  her  hands  and  pressed  them  to  her 
breast,  her  eyes,  her  mouth  murmuring  to  the  un- 
heeding night,  which  kept  her  maiden  secret  un- 
revealed. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT. 

So  they  stood  awhile  in  silence,  and  be  sure 
neither  was  aware  of  lack  of  speech.  The  half- 
hidden  moon  peering  down,  the  booming  sea,  the 
rain-steeped  perfume  of  the  wind,  the  very  creaking 
of  the  wooden  wall  when  strong  gusts  beset  it,  all 
these  had  tongues  that  told  of  meeting  and  ro- 
mance, the  beauty  and  loneliness  of  the  hour,  of  fears 
and  tremulous  hopes  ;  and  more  than  all  the  thou- 
sand subtle  fantasies  each  man  and  woman  draws 
from  outer  things  to  mingle  with  some  tender  in- 
most dream :  each  has  his  own,  separate,  suggestive 
only  to  one  heart  and  therefore  doubly  dear,  in  that 
supremest  hour  while  love  remains  unspoken  yet 
imminent  upon  each  moment's  lip. 

Presently  Algitha  laughed,  a  little  joyous  thrill  of 
sound.  Happiness  speaks  so. 

"You  have  been  wandering  in  the  rain,"  she 
said. 

"  Aye,  lady,  for  my  heart  is  full  of  thoughts." 

"  Of  Gauthier  and  his  heavy  arm,  and  that  lack- 
humour  eye  ! — Are  you  afraid,  Goyault  ?" 

She  had  withdrawn  herself  within  the  window, 
but  with  the  laughing  question  leaned  forth  again. 


ii4  THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT. 

Goyault  raised  up  his  face  so  that  the  dim  light 
fell  upon  it,  and  he  smiled. 

"  Gauthier  is  a  mighty  man  of  war  and  it  may 
go  hard  with  me  to  vanquish  him,  but  I  thought  not 
of  him." 

"  Of  whom  then  did  you  think,  lord  of  Gros- 
Nez  ?  " 

"Of— of  you,  lady." 

She  bent  over  him,  and  he  could  see  the  rose 
upon  her  cheek. 

"  Your  voice  is  sad.  Did  you  wish  you  had  not 
embarked  upon  this  wild  adventure  for  my  sake  ?  " 

"  Of  that  I  will  let  my  denial  rest  until  the  mor- 
row. I  can  best  prove  my  knighthood  and  my  ear- 
nest vow  upon  the  field." 

"  Then  why  did  you  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  Because  I  could  not  help  it,  as  I  believe." 
But  he  was  sad  again  and  lacked  a  lover's  fire. 

"  Good  saints,  dear  lord,  how  heavy  a  fate  is 
yours  !  Tis  not  enough  to  put  your  life  in  peril 
for  one  poor  maiden  but  you  must  waste  your 
hours  in  thought  of — " 

"  Her—" 

"  No — it, — the  hardship  of  your  case  !  Better 
far  to  ponder  on  the  methods  of  this  great  Gau- 
thier, who  takes  hard  blows  like  a  jellyfish  and 
allows  his  huge  bulk — or  so  my  father  says — to 
fight  half  his  battles  for  him." 

"  Thanks,  lady ;  that  will  I  remember,  as  I  pray 
heaven  to  his  hurt,  to-morrow." 


THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT.  115 

"  Well,  your  thoughts  of  me — "  harking  back. 

But  Goyault  interposed.  He  could  not  tell  her 
how  they  ran. 

"  And  of  the  Count,  Karadac  of  Gersay,  who 
would  fain  be  here  to  help  me  to  defend  your 
name." 

Algitha  drew  back,  and  leaning  upon  the  side  of 
the  casement  asked  : 

'•'  What  is  he  like,  your  Count  ?  " 

"  Like  ?  Like  some  great  eagle  !  "  and  he  spoke 
like  one  proud  of  the  object  of  his  praise. 

Algitha  sighed. 

"  I'm  glad  he  did  not  come.  I  like  a  man  who 
bears  resemblance  to  his  own  kind,  not  to  fish  or 
beast  or  bird." 

Goyault  had  lost  his  cunning  with  her  sex  because 
he  loved  her. 

"  Karadac  is  a  peerless  knight,"  he  urged. 
"  Long-limbed  and  stately,  strong  and  supple  too  as 
the  leopards  on  his  shield." 

"  They  have  said  I  am  a  witch  because  I  will  not 
love,"  Algitha  responded,  "  but  if  Count  Karadac 
were  my  suitor  with  an  advocate  so  warm  as  my 
lord  Goyault,  he  surely  had  prevailed  to  move  my 
will." 

Here  was  the  moment  to  strike  home,  the  golden 
moment  he  might  have  prayed  for ;  it  was  the 
crisis  of  his  life  come  out  against  him  armed  with  a 
woman's  glance  and  her  all-cancelling  smile.  Hon- 
our and  temptation  join  issue  in  his  breast.  The 


ii6  THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT. 

keenness  of  that  conflict  burned  in  him;  to  be  true 
to  himself,  to  Karadac,  meant  uncounted  loss,  but 
to  fail  of  all  his  oaths — .  None  can  say  how  that 
struggle  might  have  ended — in  self-mastery,  it  may 
be, — but  Algitha  broke  the  spell  of  silent  strife. 

"  Yourself  has  brought  me  to  the  subject,"  she 
said  vehemently,  "  Lord  Goyault,  on  which  I  would 
question  you  before  you  answer  for  me  at  the  lists. 
Is  it  to  this  Karadac  that  I  owe  my  champion  ?  In 
his  good  charity  he  has  sent  the  flower  of  his  follow- 
ing to  take  up  my  cause.  Thus  they  have  said  in 
the  hall.  If  this  be  so — nay,  listen  to  me,  for  I  know 
what  I  would  say — then  get  you  home  to  Gersay 
back  again  and  leave  me  to  my  fate  !  " 

"  Lady,  hear  me — I  cannot  go  !  " 

"  Have  I  no  word  on  it  ? — I  say  you  shall !  I  will 
not  have  Karadac's  champion,  or  Karadac's  mercy  !  " 

"  I  offer  neither.     I  offer  but  myself." 

"You — you  do  not  care — praising  your  Count. 
I  hate  your  Count  !— But  you,  your  life  is  full ; 
some  lady  waits  for  your  return  across  the  sea.  A 
bear's  death,  or  to  break  a  girl's  heart,  'tis  all  you 
care  for— what  matters  it  ?  Go,  I  have  heard 
enough  !  No  more,  I  pray  of  you." 

"  Lady,  hear  me."  But  she  had  gone  from  the 
casement.  Then,  raising  himself  upon  his  hands, 
he  spoke  masterfully.  "  You  shall  hear  me,  and  I 
will  not  go  !  " 

She  swept  back  to  view  with  a  scornful  question. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  this  Eagle-Count  of  yours  ?  " 


THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT.  117 

Algitha  was  above  him,  mirrored  in  the  flame- 
born  dusk  of  her  chamber. 

Then  Goyault  forgot  Karadac,  forgot  all,  the 
sweet  love-potence  sweeping  through  him. 

"  I  know  no  fear  save  one,  that  is  to  lose — to 
lose—  He  dared  not  say  the  one  small  word  that 
centred  all  his  fear,  but  added  lamely :  "  Your 
cause,  if  I  might  tilt  for  you." 

"Answer  me  truly,  lord  Goyault.  Had  this 
Karadac  never  been  born,  would  you  have  come?" 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"  Of  your  own  self  you  came  ? "  She  stooped 
over  him. 

"  Of  myself  I  came.  I  saw  your  picture,  but  I 
needed  no  reminder.  Your  face  lived  with  me  these 
two  years  past.  I  heard  your  need,  and  slacked  nor 
rein  nor  oar  until  I  found  myself  in  Grenezay. 
This  is  God's  truth." 

She  stooped  over  him,  a  vision  of  flushed  maiden- 
hood. The  darkness  was  her  background. 

"  Well,  I  will  believe  you.  But,  though  sore  my 
need,  I  could  accept  only  that  knight  who  gave 
himself.  No  deputy  could  achieve  my  vindication, 
and  never  was  more  need  than  mine.  I  could  not 
tell  you  if  I  tried  of  my  long  watching  and  heart- 
sickness  when  no  answer  came.  The  raving  of  the 
tempest  nigh  drove  me  mad,  it  cut  off  hope.  And 
then  Sir  Gauthier  de  Morlaix  came  to  me  to  mock 
me  in  my  sorrow  and  my  shame,  for 'tis  shame  when 
none  will  undertake  a  maiden's  cause.  He  was 


ii8  THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT. 

here  beside  me  when,  across  the  break  of  sunlight 
on  that  water,  I  saw  your  sail.  And  I  knew — I 
knew  that  it  was  yours  !  " 

"  You  knew?  "  cried  Goyault  with  hot  high  heart. 

Algitha  drew  back  and  bethought  herself. 

"  I  thought  it  might  be — and  it  was !  Never  was 
more  need." 

And  from  the  dark  her  lover's  voice  replied  : 

"  Never  was  greater  joy  than  mine !  You  were 
not  disappointed,  Lady  Algitha?" 

"  Nay,  there  was  none  other  for  whose  coming  I 
had  hoped.  All  say  that  Gauthier  is  invincible, — 
you  will  never  know  how  much  I  hate  him ! — Yet 
when  he  heard  your  name — for  I  flung  it  at  him 
like  his  own  challenge — I  thought  he  grew  graver 
than  his  stupid  wont.  Oh,  it  was  good,  good  of  you 
to  come  !  "  With  shining  eyes  and  parted  lips  she 
thanked  him. 

And  Goyault,  looking  at  her,  knew  it  was  his 
hour.  Time  and  diversity  of  circumstance  do  not 
matter,  the  story  is  the  same  yesterday  and  to-day 
and  for  ever.  We  love  and  are  beloved,  let  all  the 
world  go  hang ! 

"  I  thank  Heaven  that  you  had  need  of  me,  for, 
need  or  no,  one  day  I  should  have  come  and  found 
perchance  no  greeting  for  a  forgotten  face?"  He 
raised  his  head  towards  the  light  and  she  saw  the 
wet  curls  dark  upon  his  brow;  and  the  mother 
moved  in  her  for  those  anxious  eyes  that  craved 
assurance  from  her. 


THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT.  119 

Algitha  made  no  reply  in  words.  She  smiled, 
but  that  fulfilled  his  need.  And  in  her  heart  she 
cried,  "Goyault,  Goyault,  Goyault  !  Hers!  Her 
knight  and  lord  standing  between  her  and  all  the 
past  and  all  the  world,"  and  a  faint  echo  added, 
"  All  the  future  !  " 

Because  she  was  so  fair,  he  dared  not  look  again 
but  turned  his  face  seawards,  and  the  salt  wet  winds 
brought  with  them  the  scent  of  heather  and  of 
grass,  a  vision  of  his  own  moorland  castle  of  Gros- 
Nez.  A  lover's  foremost  wish  is  often  to  carry  his 
beloved  to  his  boyhood's  haunts,  and  happy  he  who 
thereby  makes  her  sharer  of  his  dreams !  None 
know  how  much  that  means  save  he  who  fails. 

So  Goyault,  with  the  sea-wind  in  his  eyes,  gave 
utterance  : 

"  I  would  that  we  could  sight  the  Tower  of  Gros- 
Nez  ;  it  lies  out  there  before  us  in  the  night  upon 
the  shore  of  Gersay.  It  is  my  Castle,  and  some  call 
it  desolate,  for  I  am  lord  of  all  the  bleak  north 
island.  Great  empty  flats  of  moor  and  gorse  cover 
it,  and  behind  in  ranks  the  forest  stands.  But  on 
the  seaward  side  there  are  gaunt  cliffs  with  teeth 
and  claws  that  rend  the  ocean  and  withstand  its 
power  ;  nor  enemy  can  set  foot  upon  that  shore  or 
scale  its  heights.  Unsubdued  my  frontier,  and 
would  hold  the  treasure  which  I  gave  into  its  keep- 
ing against  all  assault.  I  would  I  could  show  you 
that  old  keep  upon  its  crags,  for  nowhere  blows 
the  keen  west  wind  as  stinging  sweet  as  from  the 


120  THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT. 

mighty  ocean  of  sun-setting.  It  hums  about  the 
walls  on  winter  nights,  a  sentinel  who  calls  '  All  is 
well!'  Free  in  a  free  land,  with  horse  and  hound 
to  pleasure  you — would  you  go  thither,  lady?" 
The  words  were  out  before  he  knew. 

"  Free ! — I  would  that  I  were  free.  I  have  been 
a  prisoner  and  an  exile  for  so  long— since  first  we 
saw  Gauthier  de  Morlaix'  sallow  face  among  King 
Edward's  Courtiers.  If  prisoners  are  free  within 
your  Castle,  then  I  fain  would  go  there,"  said  the 
girl,  but  her  heart  was  throbbing  in  her  throat. 

"You  would  be  no  prisoner,  but  a  queen  !  God 
grant  that  we  may  sail  on  some  bright  summer 
morning  across  the  green  and  living  glory  of  the 
sea.  And — and — But  these  are  dreams.  The  cause 
is  yet  to  win, — yet  have  no  fear,  dear  lady,  I  will 
not  fail  you." 

"  Nay,"  she  whispered  back,  "  I  have  none.  Go, 
my  champion,  go  rest  well  and  long,  and  to-morrow 
thrust  down  my  enemy  before  you." 

But  Goyault  only  murmured  :  "  Must  I  go  ?  " 

And  in  the  warm  and  blowing  summer  dusk,  his 
hand  sought  hers  and  held  it  close.  Thus  she 
learned  that  he  was  wounded  by  the  eagle's  beak, 
and  must  needs  find  linen  and  soft  wrappings  for 
the  wound. 

How  can  such  tales  be  told  ?  Shy  glances  and 
broken  words,  that  mean  at  once  nothing  and  so 
much!  The  touching  of  hands  and  thrills  of  ten- 
derness, and  once  a  vagrant  curl  blew  out  upon  his 


THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT.  121 

face  and  was  prisoned  in  his  lips.  The  light  waned 
within  her  chamber,  yet  they  lingered  in  soft,  in- 
consequent talk,  to  which  the  moment  lends  both 
eloquence  and  translation. 

His  hand  had  strayed  once  more  to  hers ;  he 
pressed  it  on  his  brow,  and  saw  a  future.  Algitha, 
there  was  no  possibility  of  a  future  save  with  her. 
Golden-haired  Algitha  with  the  tender  voice,  her 
hand  in  his,  her  kiss  upon  his  lips  for  ever  and  for 
ever,  undying,  starlit  love  like  this!  His  fierce 
avowal  answered  even  as  he  would  have  it  answered. 
The  two  alone,  agreed,  and  round  them  the  warm 
world  and  night. 

Sorrow  and  hardship  became  but  names  at  her 
dear  side.  How  they  would  talk,  how  they  would 
dream,  how  they  would  live,  how  they  would  die  ! 
Death  had  no  fears  for  him  ;  rather  death  was  a 
friend,  provided  his  cold  voice  called  out  their 
names  together,  so  they  might  pass  hand  in  hand 
across  his  borders. 

It  was  his  hour,  the  hour  when  his  rose  had  no 
thorn.  The  more  glorious  future  glowed  ascend- 
ing from  the  glorious  present.  The  past? — That 
was  not  he,  that  pale  shadow  of  himself  which 
lived  in  his  remembrance.  Life  had  begun  to- 
night ! 

He  stood  within  a  radiance  which  must  fade. 
Humanity  soars  but  for  brief  flights;  so  pure  and 
rare  the  air,  we  may  not  breathe  it  long.  Goyault 
came  back  to  earth  and  kissing,  and  he  found  both 
earth  and  kissing  good. 


122  THE  HOUR  OF  GOYAULT. 

And  so  he  left  her,  but  he  could  not  sleep,  being 
afire  with  the  tremulous  sweetness  of  glances  inter- 
changed. 

And  across  the  rushing  Channel  Karadac  tossed 
in  his  fever  dreams  and  babbled  of  the  name  of 
Alffitha. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   SANDS  OF   L'ANCRESSE. 

THE  morning  broke  unsummerlike,  with  wind 
and  scattered  clouds  and  flying  gleams  of  sunlight. 
Jobourg  was  all  astir  from  early  dawn  ;  stallions 
neighed  on  the  high  cliff,  and  from  the  blue  shores 
of  Herm  boats  were  putting  out  upon  the  narrow 
strip  of  wind-stung  sea  and  heading  for  the  sandy 
dunes  of  L'Ancresse. 

There  on  a  wide  space  of  common  land  between 
the  woodland  and  the  rising  slopes  of  sand  the  lists 
were  set.  Near  by  to  seaward  a  grey  cromlech 
overlooked  the  land  ;  the  dumb  old  witness  of  van- 
ished gods,  it  watched  to-day  the  faithful  of  another 
creed  gathering  in  scores  to  see  justice  done  be- 
tween the  innocent  and  guilty  by  the  strange  arbi- 
trament of  the  sword. 

Lines  of  folk  moving  across  the  island  converged 
on  the  little  plain  of  L'Ancresse.  High-featured 
Norman  nobles  riding  at  their  ease,  while  serfs  and 
fishers,  tillers  of  the  soil  and  slaves,  hurried  by  on 
foot,  giving  a  wide  berth  to  the  seigneurs  and  their 
following,  for  men-at-arms  were  short  of  temper 
and  ready  of  offence. 

Tall  barriers  shut  in  the  lists,  but  on  the  raised 


124        THE  SANDS  OF    L'ANCRESSE. 

steps  without  the  people  gathered  quickly,  and  a 
loud  hum  of  voices  rose  which  mingled  with  the 
booming  of  breakers  on  the  beach. 

In  those  days  a  yearly  Court  composed  of  four 
Knight-Judges  decided  all  the  weightier  causes  in 
the  isle.  That  year  it  numbered  Jean  de  Jobourg 
and  Sampson  d'Anneville  as  belonging  to  the  land, 
with  other  two  sent  for  the  purpose  by  the  Suzerain 
from  Normandy.  These  four  riding  together  to  an 
appointed  place  met  the  free  tenants  of  the  Duke, 
and  all  others  with  disputes  or  wrongs  who  chose 
to  refer  them  to  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Court  of 
Chevaliers.  On  horseback  they  heard  all  com- 
plaints and  sifted  evidence,  and  on  horseback  they 
recorded  judgment. 

A  hush  fell  on  the  populace  as  with  clang  of  steel 
and  trampling  hoofs  the  four  Knights  wheeled  their 
horses  into  line. 

As  highest  in  importance,  the  suit  of  the  great 
Norman  seigneur,  Gauthier  de  Morlaix,  against  a 
Saxon  lady  took  precedence  of  all. 

The  lord  of  Morlaix  rode  through  the  circle  of 
country-folk  with  all  the  customary  pomp  and  cir- 
cumstance of  splendid  armour  and  prancing  steed, 
and  woe  to  those  who  chanced  to  come  beneath 
the  heavy  hoofs ! 

His  accusation  against  the  Lady  Algitha,  daugh- 
ter of  the  English  Earl  Algar,  sometime  lord  of 
Avening,  was  long  drawn  out  and  grave.  He  com- 
plained that  this  lady  had  bewitched  him  to  his 


THE   SANDS   OF  L'ANCRESSE.         125 

great  hurt  and  misusage.  She  had  laid  so  strong  a 
spell  upon  him  that  he  could  neither  sleep  nor  eat 
or  take  pleasure  in  his  life.  Health  and  peace  of 
mind  had  left  him,  nor  could  he  gain  ease  from  the 
torment  of  his  thoughts,  which  ran  ever  upon  one 
subject,  the  which  was  sore  against  his  will  for  he 
was  full  weary  of  the  lady  and  her  love.  These 
and  many  other  evils  had  come  upon  him  and  his 
retainers  by  reason  of  this  same  sorcery.  Although 
the  details  were  too  numerous  to  be  set  down  here, 
none  were  omitted  to  the  hearing  of  the  Court. 

Afterward  Earl  Algar,  in  his  daughter's  name, 
denied  the  charge  and  called  upon  the  knights  pres- 
ent that  one  should  stand  forth  as  her  champion 
to  uphold  her  cause  and  prove  her  innocence. 

Goyault  advanced,  his  visor  up,  and  all  men  saw 
his  face,  clear-hued,  clear-eyed,  burned  by  the  storm 
of  yesterday,  strong  and  joyous  as  a  young  god's. 
He  declared  himself  the  champion  of  the  Lady 
Algitha,  and  glanced  toward  her  where  she  sat, 
pale  and  proud,  crowned  with  the  sparkle  of  a 
star, — and  throwing  his  gauntlet  upon  the  ground 
swore  to  defend  her  innocence  with  his  body. 

Gauthier  de  Morlaix  raised  the  gage.  Upon  that 
the  Court  hastened  to  arrange  the  details  of  the 
combat  according  to  their  custom.  Each  knight 
was  to  be  armed  with  a  long  sword  and  dagger, 
with  shield  and  cuirass  for  defence.  Also  the  bat- 
tle must  begin  at  noon,  the  lists  being  set  due  east 
and  west  to  secure  each  man  equal  advantage  of 
sun  and  shade. 


126        THE  SANDS  OF   L'ANCRESSE. 

Upon  this  followed  the  oaths.  Goyault,  with 
the  Gospel  in  his  right  hand,  took  Gauthier's  left  in 
his  left,  and  so  swore  : 

"  Listen,  thou  whose  hand  I  hold,  I,  as  represent- 
ing the  Lady  Algitha,  take  solemn  oath  that  I  am 
not  guilty  of  the  crime  that  thou  hast  laid  to  my 
charge  :  so  may  God  and  His  saints  be  my  aid :  and 
here  will  I  prove  it  with  my  body  as  this  Court 
hath  adjudged." 

The  ringing  voice  had  echoes  that  men  under- 
stood, and  one  and  another  glanced  into  each 
other's  eyes  and  smiled. 

The  Holy  Gospel  passed  from  hand  to  hand 
between  the  central  two,  and  changing  grasp  Gau- 
thier  de  Morlaix  first  gazed  round  with  heavy, 
staring  confidence,  and  took  his  oath  : 

"  Listen  in  thy  turn,  thou  whose  hand  I  hold, 
thou  art  perjured  in  that  thou  hast  denied  my 
accusation.  Thus  God  and  His  saints  be  my  aid. 
And  here  will  I  prove  it  with  my  body  as  this 
Court  hath  adjudged." 

The  groups  broke  up  for  the  time,  for  noon 
though  near  at  hand  was  not  yet  fully  come. 

"  'Tis  a  pity,  for  this  Goyault  of  Gersay  has  a 
gallant  air,"  said  a  short  red  knight  in  Jean  de 
Jobourg's  ear.  "  What  think  you  ?  Gauthier  has 
fleshed  over  since  last  I  saw  him  joust." 

The  tall  Norman  shook  his  head. 

"  The  more  weight  behind  the  blow.  It  but 
strengthens  him.  He  bores  down  like  some  great 


THE  SANDS  OF   L'ANCRESSE.        127 

mammoth  on  his  foe  and  crushes  him  by  sheer 
force  of  impact." 

"  But  Goyault  is  swift  and  ready.  Have  you 
not  heard  of  him  ?  The  minstrels  have  sung  his 
prowess  in  the  isles  this  three  years  past." 

"  I  have  heard.  But  can  the  wildcat  fight  the 
wolf  ?  Nay  !  Our  Lady  help  Goyault,  for  he  is  a 
dead  man  already.  See  yonder  the  Abbot  of  St. 
Michael's  with  his  cowled  brethren  ;  already  the 
monkish  mouths  droop  to  the  fashion  of  the 
masses  for  his  soul.  Some  say  that  Karadac  of 
Gersay  holds  him  in  high  esteem." 

The  fox-red  baron  sighed. 

"  He  is  the  Count's  highest  knight  and  vassal. 
And  hearken,  Jean,  were  it  not  a  witch,  the  Saxon 
is  a  rare  maiden,  by  my  troth  !  " 

"  Her  beauty  is  her  bane  :  God  pity  her,  Gau- 
thier's  vengeance  is  always  silent." 

With  noon  the  gale  sang  louder  and  blew  wild 
weather  into  the  skies.  All  the  land  was  filled  with 
storm-lights. 

Impatiently  the  people  waited  for  the  battle  that 
was  to  be  done  in  the  green  openings  between  the 
furze  and  sand  of  L'Ancresse.  At  midday  there 
was  a  call  for  silence.  The  crowd  crushed  forward, 
and  breathing  hotly  clung  together  on  the  narrow 
standing-room,  their  clustering  lines  broken  by  the 
single  rank  of  knightly  faces,  grave  and  keen. 

Oh,  those  Normans  !  a  race  of  large  ambitions 
and  yet  temperate,  ready  to  adopt  the  law  yet  full 


128        THE  SANDS  OF  L'ANCRESSE. 

of  moving  turbulence.  They  burst  their  banks  and, 
overflowing  south,  conquered  the  world's  conquerors 
and  found  ample  resting-places,  whence  again  they 
poured  out  again  to  the  Crusades,  seeking  fame  and 
their  souls'  welfare  by  deeds  of  blood,  true  pioneers 
of  eastward  ho  !  Proud,  crafty,  ruthless,  bigoted, 
superstitious  and  insuperable  men,  the  prize  of 
whose  play  was  a  smile,  the  penalty  a  warrior's 
death.  Little  wonder  that  they  loved  so  well  those 
pale,  passionate  women,  whose  great  hearts  were 
worth  a  kingdom  and  whose  light  hands  could  close 
so  cruelly  upon  a  sceptre  or  a  rival ! 

In  the  silence  the  combatants  rode  into  the  en- 
closure of  the  lists,  one  from  either  end.  Gauthier 
de  Morlaix  as  appellant  from  the  east,  Goyault  from 
the  west,  and  meeting  in  the  middle  the  mailed 
hands  clasped  once  more,  and  Goyault  spoke 
aloud. 

"  Hear  all  ye  and  be  my  witnesses.  That  which 
I  have  said  before  the  Judges  is  the  truth.  I  bear 
no  arms  but  those  allowed  me  by  the  Court,  nor  do 
I  carry  any  charm,  talisman,  or  amulet.  I  put  my 
trust  in  God  first,  secondly  in  the  goodness  of  my 
cause,  and  lastly  in  my  own  valour.  And  I  swear 
to  do  my  utmost  loyally,  to  force  this  man  whom  I 
hold  to  confess  himself  guilty  or  to  kill  him  if  he 
refuses  so  to  do." 

Gauthier  loosed  the  other's  hand,  then  taking  it 
afresh  in  a  clanking  grip  of  steel  he  repeated  the  same 
formula  with  deadly  slowness. 


THE  SANDS  OF    L'ANCRESSE.         129 

This  ceremony  ended,  two  squires,  coming  for- 
ward, took  hold  upon  their  bridles  and  led  the 
horses  back  to  the  extreme  ends  of  the  arena.  The 
crowd  appraised  the  foes  once  more.  Goyault  was 
lighter,  man  and  horse,  but  Gauthier  was  a  mighty 
warrior.  A  glance  of  sunlight  shot  along  the  lists 
as  Jean  de  Jobourg  gave  the  signal  to  begin. 

"  Let  them  go  !  "  he  shouted  twice,  and  the  third 
time  added  :  "  Let  them  go  to  do  their  devoir  !  " 

A  thunder  of  hoofs  and  flashing  armour,  they 
rushed  forth  on  one  another,  but  Goyault,  knowing 
wherein  his  weakness  lay,  avoided  the  full  shock. 
He  stooped  before  the  Norman's  murderous  blade 
and  brought  a  blow  home  full  on  Gauthier's  throat, 
but  the  helmet  fringe  of  chain-mail  robbed  it  of 
its  virtue  ;  while  Gauthier's  sword  catching  in  the 
edge  of  Goyault's  headpiece  above  the  visor  shore 
it  from  his  head,  and  sent  it  whirling  upwards 
through  the  air  across  the  barrier. 

The  roar  of  the  lists  went  up  and  battered  at  the 
gates  of  heaven,  drowning  for  a  moment  the  groan- 
ing of  the  sea. 

The  champions  turned  to  meet  again.  Algitha 
sat  with  strained  hands  and  watched. 

Another  rush  and  yet  another,  blows  struck  and 
strongly  parried,  and  in  the  third  the  snorting  horses, 
plunging,  furious,  added  confusion  to  the  viewless 
interchange  of  blows.  Then  Morlaix'  charger  reeled 
on  a  sudden  pawing  with  its  forefeet  as  if  to  crush 
its  rival,  tottered  an  instant  at  its  height  and  fell 
back  heavily  upon  the  sand. 


130        THE  SANDS  OF  L'ANCRESSE. 

Partly  by  luck,  and  in  part  by  one  huge  effort  of 
his  enormous  strength,  Gauthier  sprang  clear. 

Another  roar   went  up,  and  the  Norman's  name 
burst  from  a  hundred  throats. 

Goyault  reined  backward  and  flung  up  his  hand. 
"  I  appeal  to  the  Court.     In  fair  fight  my  lord  of 
Morlaix'  steed  has  been  overthrown.     Therefore  I 
appeal  that  we  two  meet  each  other  on  our  feet." 

A  hot  murmur  of  dissent  passed  across  the  Nor- 
man group. 

"  No,  'tis  unknightly  !  " 

"What?     Fight    like    a  slave  on  foot?     Shame 
upon  him  for  a  knight !  " 

But  Gauthier,  calling  to  his  squire,  unloosed  his 
close  helmet  and  made  answer  for  himself. 

"  I  appeal  also  to  the  Chevaliers  that  my  foe's 
prayer  be  granted." 

A  loud  answer  of  protest  and  surprise  rose  again. 
Gauthier  drew  nearer  to  the  barrier,  and  the  wet 
white  vehemence  of  his  face  wrought  silence. 

"Those  of  you  who  are  my  good  friends,  who 
have  known  me  long,  let  be.  Have  I  done  aught 
unknightly  since  I  took  my  vows  that  you  should 
cry  upon  me  thus?  No!  This  perjured  traitor 
and  champion  of  the  Foul  Fiend  has  in  his  heart 
some  design  of  danger  to  overthrow  me.  Does  he 
dream  that  I  should  fail  were  I  no  longer  aided  by 
my  charger's  power  and  strength? — And  you,  my 
friends,  is  my  cause  less  good  if  I  bestride  no 
horse  ?  I  am  not  a  man  of  many  words.  Let  be,  I 


THE  SANDS  OF  L'ANCRESSE.         131 

say.  Therefore  to  you,  knight  judges  of  this  Court 
I  too  appeal  for  leave  to  meet  this  perjured  traitor 
on  my  feet." 

"  As  man  to  man  !  Say  who  can  better  that,  my 
masters  ?  "  cried  a  voice  from  among  the  crowd. 

Silence  was  cried,  and  many  a  dumb  head  was 
rapped  by  those  who  kept  the  barriers,  yet  the  peo- 
ple laughed  and  pressed  more  closely  forward  to 
behold  which  way  the  victory  would  turn  under  the 
new  conditions. 

Gauthier  put  on  his  helmet  and  stood  prepared,  a 
thick,  impenetrable,  perilous  figure.  And  now  Goy- 
ault  was  the  assailant.  He  moved  round  his  foe 
with  the  lithe  hunter's  step,  and,  stroke  upon  stroke, 
the  clear,  clean  ring  of  steel  rangharplike  above  the 
deep  diapason  of  the  sea. 

It  was  Goyault's  intent  to  spend  his  adversary's 
strength  and  breath  in  rapid  skirmishing,  but  Gau- 
thier slowly  overbore  the  other  man's  intent  by 
force  of  single  purpose. 

Goyault  leaped  gaily  into  the  heart  of  battle,  but 
his  opponent  gathered  himself  ready  and  readier 
for  the  final  stroke.  With  sword  that  played 
steadily  but  purposefully  round  about  his  shield, 
the  great  Norman  bored  down  opposition.  Thus 
and  thus  had  he  ere  now  smashed  men  like  egg- 
shells, and  Goyault,  thrusting  and  parrying,  knew 
that  now  at  length  he  had  need  of  all  his  light- 
footedness  and  his  skill.  Gauthier  was  breathing 
hard,  but  Goyault,  with  helmless  head  and  all  his 


132        THE  SANDS  OF  L'ANCRESSE. 

curls  bare,  began  to  feel  his  adversary's  single  aim 
tell  upon  his  defence.  He  had  met  the  aurochs  in 
full  charge,  and  now  he  knew  again  the  same  mad- 
dened pressure  as  the  grim  Norman  hurtled  on  his 
resistless  way. 

In  that  wild  moment  of  distress  Goyault  under- 
stood that  it  was  in  Gauthier's  heart  to  shame  him, 
to  drive  him  to  the  barrier,  and  there  pin  him 
through  like  some  poor  bird  transfixed  upon  a  scul- 
lion's skewer,  and  Goyault  laughed  aloud.  So  the 
mellow  laugh  rose  like  some  strange  echo  of  the 
strenuous  battle. 

The  men-at-arms  were  howling  Gauthier's  name, 
but  there  were  women  too  with  tear-wet  eyes  who 
prayed  for  Goyault's  life. 

Sword  poised  over  him,  trampling  him  backwards, 
the  Norman,  sure  of  conquest,  rushed  upon  him. 
Goyault  dropped  upon  his  knee,  and  flung  up  his 
blade  to  meet  the  downward  cut,  then  swift  as  the 
wildcat  to  which  they  had  likened  him,  sprang  up- 
wards inside  the  Norman's  guard  and  buried  his 
dagger  in  the  joint  of  armour  between  neck  and 
shoulder. 

Gauthier  de  Morlaix  stood  one  moment  erect  and 
still,  then  the  tenseness  and  the  life  went  from  him, 
and  he  lurched  forward  on  the  trodden  turf. 

Dizzily  Goyault  turned  ;  the  huge  form  lay  prone 
face  downwards,  the  sword  flung  out  upon  the 
ground  ten  paces  off. 

Goyault  stooped  to  draw  his  adversary's  dagger 


THE  SANDS  OF  L'ANCRESSE.        133 

from  its  sheath,  then  called  upon  him  to  avow  the 
truth.     But   no  answer  came. 

In  sonorous  tones  Jean  de  Jobourg  pronounced 
the  adjudgment  of  the  Court.  Goyault  raised  his 
face  to  heaven.  Grey  and  dark  the  clouds  rolled 
in  full-bosomed  procession  low  overhead,  and  the 
victor,  bareheaded,  battle-flushed,  thrilled  beneath 
the  breaking  rain,  for  Algitha  was  saved. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT. 

IF  man  were  permitted  by  the  Power  that  is 
above  to  look  back  with  opened  eyes  upon  his  love 
or  loves  of  earth,  he  would  scarce  believe  how  high 
towards  heaven  they  soared  at  times,  nor  yet  how 
low  they  sank  in  fleshly  depths.  The  love  of  man- 
hood in  strenuous  years  has  its  foundations  in  the 
flesh,  so  it  is  ordered  ;  the  flesh  indeed  is  but  an 
anchor  to  hold  us  against  the  winds  and  waverings 
of  the  wayward  spirit.  We  are  told,  and  at  one 
time  of  his  life  at  any  rate  each  man  who  is  of 
much  account  believes  it,  that  every  soul  has  its  re- 
lated soul  somewhere  in  the  great  world.  Goyault 
had  never  heard  this  ancient  theory  perhaps,  but  by 
,  the  natural  process  of  the  human  heart  he  had 
learned  love's  universal  lesson  and  believed.  Al- 
githa,  by  right  of  choice  and  conquest,  by  love's 
election  and  the  ties  of  memory,  by  kisses  and  by 
vows,  was  his,  body  and  soul,  not  Karadac's. 

And  yet  there  stood  against  this  fact  his  oath 
and  Karadac's  fierce  agony  of  blindness  and  his 
trust ! 

"  I  charge  you  tell  her  of  what  temper  is  my 
love,  that  henceforward  there  will  be  but  one  face 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT.    135 

upon  my  darkness,  and  say  that  I  would  choose 
blindness  with  that  one  memory  rather  than  a  life 
of  daily  sight  without  it."  And  again  :  "  That 
must  reach  her  heart  an  she  be  woman.  But  re- 
member, Goyault,  say  I  love  her  well  and  now  I 
have  nothing  left  but  her  alone." 

On  this  Goyault  turned  to  self  again,  and  the 
old  vexed  question  rose,  Would  he  choose  blindness 
and  Algitha,  or—?  There  was  no  answer.  It 
seemed  that  in  losing  the  living  vision  of  her  beauty, 
he  would  half  lose  her.  Yet  Karadac  had  said — 
Enough  !  That  thought  he  could  not  follow.  For 
himself  he  would  take  Algitha  and  Hell.  Battles 
and  wanderings  and  the  long,  fierce  hunt  laid  no 
more  stress  upon  his  heart.  He  wanted  naught 
but  Algitha,  and  to  rest  upon  past  deeds  and  the 
great  name  he  had  won.  Of  what  good  that  name 
save  to  do  her  honour  ? 

On  the  turmoil  of  this  thought  Earl  Algar  en- 
tered. 

"  Aye,  Gauthier  de  Morlaix  lives,  and  though 
sore  hurt  it  is  said  he  will  recover.  Before  that  day 
comes  I  and  mine  must  be  far  away,"  and  the  Earl 
turned  a  shrewd  questioning  eye  on  his  companion. 

But  Goyault  gave  no  answer  save  by  his  troubled 
mien. 

"The  Chevaliers  of  the  Court  have  assessed  a 
fine  of  half  his  goods  against  Morlaix,  and  all  that 
will  I  give  to  the  man  who  wins  my  daughter.  Al- 
githa, even  in  her  exile,  goes  to  no  husband  un- 


136        THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT. 

dowered  according  to  her  high  degree.  The  girl  is 
fair,  and  but  for  this  maggot  in  her  brain  had  wed 
into  some  noble  house  in  England." 

Still  Goyault  held  his  peace.  How  to  decide? — 
Love  on  this  side,  loyalty  on  that !  So  they  swung 
a  maddening  pendulum  of  vacillation. 

"  We  owe  you  much,"  Earl  Algar  wandered  on  ; 
"  and  it  is  but  fit  that  Algitha  should  thank  you  ere 
you  take  ship  again  for  Gersay." 

Goyault  snatched  at  the  offer.  Oh,  for  one  mo- 
ment's peace  to  settle  his  resolve  !  Yet  when  Algar 
left  him,  a  fresh  agony  of  doubt  tore  at  his  heart 
and  he  was  terribly  alone.  Before  him  swept  the 
face  of  Karadac,  a  fierce  face  with  blind  eyes,  that 
seemed  to  compel  the  manhood  and  loyalty  within 
him.  He  would  give  up  all  and  die  ! — would  God 
he  could !  The  trouble  was — as  it  is  with  most  of 
us — he  must  give  up  all  and  live.  A  one-winged 
life  that  nevermore  could  fly  and  knew  not  how  to 
creep. 

Holding  to  this  resolve  he  found  himself  with 
Algitha,  he  scarce  knew  how.  She  stood  before  the 
window  through  which  in  those  wild  moments  of 
the  summer  night  his  kisses  and  love-words  had 
come  to  her.  Despairingly  he  leaned  against  the 
wooden  wall  and  the  whirlwind  of  doubts  and  of 
desires  once  more  beset  him. 

Seeing  he  did  not  speak,  Algitha  turned  and 
there  lit  upon  him  so  sweet  and  shy  a  glance  he 
dared  not  look  again. 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT.    137 

The  girl's  face  altered.  Seeing  him  so  changed 
and  pale,  she  sprang  to  his  side. 

"  You  are  wounded  ! — Come,  there  is  a  leech  still 
in  the  Castle."  She  took  his  hands  and  would  have 
drawn  him  to  the  door. 

"  I  have  a  wound.  Tis  nothing.  Algitha,  listen 
while  I  have  the  will  and  the  resolve  to  tell  you." 

She  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two,  and  a  proud  look 
dawned  in  her  blue  eyes. 

"  I  have  a  confession  to  make — I  have  deceived 
you  !  " 

Her  bosom  rose  and  fell.  What  was  this  that 
Goyault  must  say,  this  of  which  he  spoke  so  halt- 
ingly ? 

"  Say  on." 

"  Karadac,  the  Count  of  Gersay,  sent  you 'a  mes- 
sage by  my  hand.  He  loves  you  !  " 

"  Loves  me?  It  cannot  be.  Never  has  he  seen 
me!" 

"  But  he  has  seen  you — seen  that  picture  which 
you  sent  across  the  sea  to  bid  us  to  your  aid.  And 
having  seen  it — who  could  wonder — he  loved  you  !  " 

"  Other  men  have  loved  me  also,  but  that  is 
naught  to  me,"  she  said  coldly. 

"  But  Karadac  is  like  none  other,"  Goyault  hur- 
ried on.  "  I  have  told  you  what  he  is — " 

"  Not  again,  as  I  beseech  you,  sieur  Goyault !  I 
am  awearied  of  your  Karadac." 

"  Nay,  you  must  hear  me,  for  my  oath's  sake — I 
have  told  you  how  he  rode,  both  he  and  I,  through 


138        THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT. 

all  the  haunted  forest  land  of  Gersay,  and  at  mid- 
night some  evil  struck  him  blind.  Blind,  bethink 
you  of  it,  in  all  the  splendour  of  his  manhood  and 
his  newfound  love  ! — In  the  darkness,  waiting  on 
the  forest  edge,  I  watched  the  great  storm  gather 
and  rush  up  from  the  western  sea.  There  in  a  flash 
I  saw  the  Count,  and  so  led  him  to  a  refuge — and 
he  was  blind! " 

"  Blind  ? — Alas,  poor  Count,  I  can  be  sorry  for 
him  !  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  you  and  me?  " 

The  red  demure  lips  hardly  held  their  white  smile. 

"  All,  everything !  "  Goyault  was  desperate. 
"  He  sent  me." 

"  Ah,  now  we  come  to  the  heart  of  it !  "  Algitha 
spoke  in  another  tone.  "  Why  did  you  not  tell  me 
sooner?  " 

"  Because  I  prayed  that  I  might  die  !  I  prayed 
that  Gauthier  might  slay  me,  and  I  him." 

"  What  was  your  master's  message  ?  "  she  asked 
bitterly. 

Goyault  gripped  the  beam  beside  him  and  broke 
into  fierce  words. 

"  He  dreamed  he  saw  you  at  your  window  wav- 
ing him  onward.  And  he  bade  me  go — since  he 
could  not  fight  for  you,  being  blind — and  fulfil  his 
dream.  '  Tell  her  of  me/  he  said,  '  and  of  my  love, 
and  tell  her  well.  Go,  I  leave  my  honour  to  your 
hands,  which  I  had  never  thought  to  give  to  any 
man's  keeping.  Guard  it  and  bring  it  back  to  me. 
Go  as  my  friend,  and  when  you  have  conquered 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT.    139 

lead  her  to  me ! — I  charge  you,  tell  her  of  what 
temper  is  my  love.  That  henceforward  there  will 
be  but  one  face  upon  my  darkness,  and  say  that  I 
would  choose  blindness  with  that  one  memory 
rather  than  a  life  of  daily  sight  without  it.  Say 
that  I  love  her  well,  and  now  have  nothing  left  but 
her  alone.' ' 

Then  fell  a  long  silence.  Had  he  seen  Algitha's 
face,  he  would  have  known  how  pity  dwelt  upon  it, 
but  after  her  glance  fell  on  Goyault  and  her  mouth 
hardened. 

"  So  I  am  to  be  the  wife  of  blind  Count  Karadac  !  " 

Goyault  shuddered. 

"  His  here,"  he  said  ;  "  perchance  :  there,  I  had 
prayed  mine." 

"  There  ?— where  ?  " 

He  threw  out  his  hands  toward  the  sea  and 
heaven. 

"  There,  where  the  souls  of  the  dead  go,  be  it 
beneath  the  sea,  or  as  the  Monks  say  above  the  sun. 
I  know  not  where,  but  there  !  " 

"  We  might  fail  to  find  each  other — there,"  she 
said  in  soft  low  tones. 

"  No  !  by  my  soul,  were  I  free  to  love  you,  I 
should  find  you  there  behind  the  stars." 

A  little  smile  crept  back  about  her  lips. 

"  What  shall  I  believe  ?  "  she  went  on.  "  Yester- 
eve  you  swore  you  were  own  man,  and  to-day  be- 
hold !  I  find  you  are  Lord  Karadac's — Do  you 
come  from  Karadac  ? " 


140        THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT. 

"Yes,  he  sent  me." 

"  You  told  me  another  story — when  we  met  last 
night ;  "  her  voice  sank. 

"  That  was  true  also." 

"  It  cannot  be." 

"  The  Count  told  me  he  had  seen  your  picture 
and  he  loved." 

"  And  you  held  your  peace  ?  " 

"  For  the  moment,  for  I  was  minded  before  that 
to  come  myself  and  be  your  champion.  Afterward 
when  the  blindness  struck  him,  I  could  not  speak." 

"  I  think,  Goyault,  that  you  do  not  love  me  well." 

"  Not  worthily,  lady,  oh,  not  worthily,  but  God 
knows  I  love  you  well !  "  he  cried. 

"  Yet  I  am  for  Karadac  ?  " 

"And  I  will  seek  death  against  the  Saracen. 
For  you — O  Algitha,  Karadac  or  the  cloister." 

"  A  cloister  ? — Am  I  such  as  they  make  nuns  of  ?  " 

"  Alas,  no,  but  therein  lies  my  fault." 

"  What,  am  I  to  live  that  pale  life  ?  Hallowed, 
yes — but  hateful !  Cold  and  buried  from  earth's 
smiles  and  joys,  all  prayer  and  pain.  In  truth, 
Goyault,  it  seems  to  me  that  you  should  save  me 
from  it." 

"  My  oath— my  oath  !  " 

She  laughed  very  softly,  a  silver  bell  that  ceased 
as  soon  as  heard.  He  had  heard  her  laugh  so  be- 
fore for  utter  happiness. 

"  Your  oath  does  not  bind  me,"  she  said  tri- 
umphantly. 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT.    141 

Goyault  started  and  looked  at  her  at  last. 

"  You  will  not  go  to  him  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  Her  blue  eyes  clouded  with  a  mist  of 
tears.  "  And  then,  you  know,  they'll  burn  me  as  a 
witch  because  I  cannot  love." 

"  But  you  do  love — "  Goyault  cried  out  in  ex- 
ultation and  stopped. 

Algitha  turned  away. 

"  Lady  Algitha,  you  do  well  to  hate  me  and  to 
scorn  me,  for  I  have  sinned  against  you — a  sin  with- 
out excuse." 

"  Without  excuse  ? — "  she  repeated,  and  a  side- 
long look  met  his. 

"  Only  that  I  loved  you,"  he  said  dejectedly. 

"  I  have  known  women  who  would  hold  that  fair 
excuse  for  a  worse  fault." 

"  Thanks  be  to  heaven  you  can  forgive  me  !  Yet 
I  cannot  repent.  The  sin,  if  sin  it  were  to  love  you 
overmuch,  I  do  not  repent.  I  love  you  now,  and 
would  not  alter  it !  " 

"Nor  I." 

"  Algitha !  " 

She  was  pulsing  close  against  him,  and  his  arms 
closed  about  her  as  if  it  were  for  evermore. 

It  is  a  moment  of  enchantment  when  we  are  able 
to  forget  there  are  millions  of  such  kisses  in  the 
world — and  yet  not  quite  such,  we  think  and  pray. 
Yet  in  the  unwearying  round  of  youth,  two  still 
agree  there  are  no  others,  nor  have  been,  and  are 
just  as  happy  believing  in  a  fantasy  as  in  the  truth. 
Is  it  not  often  belief  that  makes  a  fancy  truth? 


142        THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT. 

"  How  did  I  win  you  to  my  love  ? "  he  whis- 
pered presently,  his  lips  lost  in  the  golden  tangles 
of  her  hair. 

"  I  know  not."  Then  laughing  up  at  him  :  "  Was 
it  a  sin  in  truth  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  and  I  must  yet  be  punished  for  it." 

"  I  think  not  so,"  she  answered,  "  for  it  is  so  old 
a  sin  the  angels  have  forgotten  it." 

"  Sweet ! — Have  you  loved  me  then — " 

"  Since  first  I  saw  you  tilting  in  the  meadows 
years  and  years  ago  !  " 

"  Three  years — a  lifetime  to  you,  Algitha  !  Dear- 
est, I  have  loved  you  too." 

"Yet  you  would  have  given  me  to  Karadac?" 

"  Had  I  not  sworn  ?  " 

"  What  is  a  man's  first  duty, — to  his  liege  or  to 
his  love  ?  "  she  asked  him. 

"  It  is  hard  to  tell,"  he  murmured  sadly. 

"  When  a  man  loves,  he  knows." 

"  Is  that  so,  sweet  ?  Why  then,  I  do  know 
now." 

"  Goyault,"  she  placed  her  hands  against  his 
breast  to  look  at  him,  "  your  Count  boasts  of  the 
temper  of  his  love  :  That  he  would  choose  blind- 
ness with  me  to  sight  without.  That  is  a  question 
I  would  put  you  also.  Answer  me." 

The  young  knight  gazed  at  her  in  a  kind  of  hor- 
ror. That  Algitha  should  find  his  inmost  thought 
and  face  him  with  it  almost  appalled  him.  How 
had  she  read  him  ?  By  what  witchcraft  had  love 


THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT.    143 

fathomed  his  soul  ?  He  put  her  away  from  him 
and  covered  his  eyes. 

"  It  is  true.  I  am  unworthy  of  you,  Algitha.  I 
love  you,  or  so  it  appears  to  me,  with  every  thought 
and  fibre  of  me.  I  could  not  love  more.  You  are 
to  me  my  one  desire  in  life  or  death.  I  see  none 
other  in  my  future  but  you  alone.  Yet  I  cannot 
say  like  Karadac  that  I  would  choose  blindness 
rather — I  cannot  say  it,  for  the  sight  of  you  and  all 
your  fairness  is  part  of  you.  I  love  you  as  you  are 
because  I  can  see  you  and  rejoice  in  all  your  love- 
liness! Remembrance  is  not  sight.  I  would  hold 
you  in  my  arms  but  could  not  see  the  flush  waver 
on  your  soft  cheek,  nor  watch  a  thousand  times  the 
curl  of  scarlet  lip  which  I  adore — nor  meet  your 
dear  eyes'  answer  to  my  own  !  " 

Algitha  threw  herself  into  his  arms  and  clung  to 
him. 

"  So  would  I  be  loved  !  O  my  Goyault,  love  me 
ever  thus.  Your  Count,  he  loves  in  dreams  ! — So 
might  an  angel  love  or  some  cold  saint,  like  our 
holy  King  Edward  in  England.  Nay,  nay,  I  would 
be  loved  for  my  fairness,  as  you  think  me  fair ;  for 
my  lips  and  eyes  and  all  you  praise  in  me.  I  am  a 
woman  born  of  earth,  yet  I  can  love  to  my  life's 
end.  But  I  need  an  earthly  lover.  As  for  the 
Count  of  Gersay,  I  will  none  of  him.  His  love  is 
but  a  whimsy  of  the  brain.  I  am  not  she  he  loves. 
She  is  a  vision  or  a  star.  She  dwells  in  mid-air,  and 
never  can  he  tempt  her  down  to  earth.  But  I  am  a 


144        THE  ORDEAL  OF  GOYAULT. 

Saxon  lady,  who  would  be  wife  to  Goyault  of  St. 
Ouen's  and  Gros-Nez,  or  else  die  ! — We  will  sail  to- 
gether, as  you  said  last  night — sail  across  the  sum- 
mer sea  and  tell  him  all  the  truth,  and,  if  he  be  as 
you  say  a  noble  knight,  he  will  forgive  us." 

And  Goyault  answered  her  with  tender  words. 
Then  drew  her  back  to  those  old  formulas  of  love, 
old  as  the  world,  newborn  on  every  tongue,  the  tire- 
less iteration  of  the  ages. 

"  Say  that  you  love  me,  Algitha,  say  it  once 
again,  one  small  word,  yet  enough  to  fashion  my 
life  upon  !" 

So  they  talked  in  the  summer  dusk,  but  Goyault's 
happiness  was  bitter-sweet  because  of  Karadac. 


BOOK  III. 
GUNDRED. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN. 

JULY  was  closing  in  a  quivering  glare  of  heat. 
Beneath  the  sun  and  clear  broad  moon  alike  the  sea 
lay  radiant  to  the  horizons  around  Gros-Nez.  With- 
in the  Castle  walls  those  hot  and  weary  days  chased 
remorseless  nights,  long,  breathless,  fevered. 

At  this  far-distant  time  none  can  tell  what  acci- 
dent befell  the  Count  in  his  wild  night-riding. 
Struck  by  some  low-drooping  bough  or  blinded  by 
the  lightning, — who  can  say  ?  We  only  read  that 
Goyault  found  him,  fallen  from  his  horse,  and  with 
a  wound  across  his  brows.  Then  followed  long  ex- 
posure to  the  blustering  wind  on  the  Castle  battle- 
ments. Fever  gripped  him  and  for  weeks  he  hov- 
ered in  delirium  and  weakness  on  the  borderland  of 
life. 

Throughout  those  long-drawn  summer  weeks  two 
faces  watched  unceasingly  beside  his  bed.  Gundred, 
dumb  and  gentle  in  her  tendance,  seldom  left  him. 
She  appeared  to  need  no  rest,  no  food,  no  sleep. 
With  her  sad  eyes  fixed  upon  the  drawn  disfigured 
features,  she  watched  as  if  she  could  not  gaze 
enough  on  that  which  might  soon  be  wrapped  away 
in  dust  from  human  sight  for  ever. 


148          THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN. 

And  while  she  watched  the  Count,  Tonstain 
watched  her.  With  ever-growing  insight,  he  passed 
in  and  out,  reading  the  subtle  secrets  of  the  heart 
writ  large  upon  the  woman's  face.  And  secondarily 
he  had  interest  in  noting  the  phases  of  the  fever 
which  wrung  the  strong  man  dry  of  the  juice  of  life. 
This  was  no  tedious  interval  to  him  :  the  drama  of 
suffering  and  sorrow  playing  out  before  his  eyes  ab- 
sorbed and  puzzled  him.  Open  and  public  as  was 
life  in  those  days,  this  astute  observer  had  never 
before  been  given  the  opportunity  of  studying  so 
strange  a  tragedy  of  passion  as  that  which  now  en- 
grossed him.  Without  pity  he  turned  the  keen  light 
of  his  intelligence  upon  the  anxious  joy,  the  grief, 
the  tormented  jealousy,  and  the  wild  periods  of  re- 
morse which  worked  themselves  out  so  visibly  and  at 
such  woeful  personal  expense  in  Gundred.  She 
grew  more  gaunt,  more  lined,  more  sallow-sad  as 
time  went  on.  Her  soul  was  a  dark  chaos  of  misery 
over  which  the  spirit  of  love  moved  and  brooded. 
To  hang  above  the  sick  man>  to  be  free  to  touch 
him,  to  tend  him  day  and  night,  was  bliss  ;  but  the 
parched  unquiet  tongue  called  always  upon  Algitha, 
the  bony  hands  clung  to  hers  because  he  dreamed 
he  held  those  of  Algitha.  He  would  caress  the 
dark  bowed  head  and  praise  its  golden  glory,  or 
whisper  of  love  in  a  worship  of  admiration  that  in 
its  sad  inaptitude  brought  the  dark  colour  to  her 
brows. 

A  commixture  of  feelings  and  emotions   so  op- 


THE  GUILE  OF  tONSTAlN.         149 

posed  wrought  out  in  paroxysms  of  unalloyed  an- 
guish. Sometimes  as  she  lay  for  a  moment's  rest 
upon  the  floor  beside  the  couch  of  Karadac  she 
wondered  dimly  how  one  so  spent  in  body  as  her- 
self could  yet  suffer  so  acutely.  A  gnawing  worm 
of  jealousy  and  remorse  waked  for  ever  in  her 
breast.  To  a  weaker  nature  some  alleviation  might 
have  come,  but  that  could  never  be  with  Gundred. 
To  the  last  shred  of  conscious  life  she  would  hold  to 
that  which  she  desired.  Death  offered  no  relief  to 
her,  oblivion  held  no  temptation  to  lie  down  at 
peace  for  ever.  No  !  life  meant  hopeless  pain,  but 
her  sentient  heart  could  still  enclose  the  image  of 
Karadac.  She  would  not  have  bought  peace  at  the 
cost  of  forgetfulness.  Anything  but  loss  of  him, 
anything  but  that !  Her  very  love  gave  her  a  posses- 
sion in  him,  and  to  that  she  would  keep  fast,  though 
with  it  she  hugged  a  martyrdom  to  her  breast. 

One  stifling  evening  Tonstain  entered  the  dark 
room  in  the  corner  tower  where  for  many  weeks 
Karadac  had  lain.  Gundred  looked  up,  her  finger 
on  her  lips. 

"  Hush  !  he  sleeps." 

Tonstain  came  forward  and  stood  for  some 
moments  gazing  down  upon  the  drawn  dark  face 
and  closed  eyes  of  the  sleeper.  Bearded  and  haggard 
and  wasted,  Karadac's  high  features  stood  out  in 
ghastly  prominence,  a  jagged  pucker  of  reddened 
flesh  crossed  his  brow.  He  had  upon  him  to  the 
full  that  changed  aspect,  the  peculiar  ill-favour 


i$o         THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN. 

which  long  illness  leaves  as  a  brand  upon  its  vic- 
tims. Tonstain  regarded  him  with  a  feeling  akin 
to  disgust,  fresh  as  he  was  from  news  of  a  bride- 
groom whose  comeliness  and  dainty  grace  all  men 
were  praising. 

For  the  first  time  Tonstain  on  beholding  the  ten- 
derness of  Gundred's  attitude  and  expression  felt  a 
strong  throb  of  wonder.  That  she  should  continue 
to  adore  this  marred  relic  of  manhood,  this  past 
clay,  was  perhaps  typical  of  her  sex,  but  Gundred, 
he  was  good  enough  to  consider,  was  not  a  woman 
merely,  one  who  could  fulfil  her  life  with  love  ;  she 
owned  a  woman's  nature  but  her  mind  trenched  on 
the  higher  level  of  the  man's.  Hence  the  course 
she  might  pursue  under  the  stress  of  present  diffi- 
culties had  been  of  enormous  interest  to  him.  He 
had  watched  her,  speculating  from  hour  to  hour 
how  soon  her  intelligence  would  shake  itself  free 
from  the  yoke  of  womanhood.  That,  broadly 
speaking,  he  was  justified  in  his  expectation  had 
been  abundantly  proved  time  and  again.  Women 
with  large  brain  power  have,  by  the  law  of  com- 
pensation perhaps,  little  hearts,  contemptibly  little 
often.  But  Gundred  was  one  of  the  exceptions, 
that  most  unhappy  amalgam  where  the  woman's 
heart  is  great  enough  to  overrule  the  clear-reasoning 
head. 

The  light  was  dim,  and  from  without  the  mur- 
muring of  the  tide  came  very  softly.  So  still  the 
chamber  was  that  Tonstain's  thoughts  ran  on  un- 


THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN.          151 

broken.  A  quiet  movement  roused  him.  Gun- 
dred,  upon  her  knees,  her  worn  hands  pressed  con- 
vulsively upon  her  breast,  was  praying  in  a  tension 
of  supplication.  She  had  seen  a  change  pass  over 
the  sick  man's  face,  a  slow  relaxing  of  the  muscles, 
the  smoothing  out  of  fretted  lines,  as  he  sank  into 
repose  deeper  and  deeper,  a  sleep  that  touched 
upon  the  verge  of  death. 

The  silence  throbbed  in  Tonstain's  ears.  His 
busy  mind  leaped  onwards  and  foresaw  the  conflict 
and  the  troublous  times  which  loomed  ahead. 
Karadac's  breathing  grew  fainter  and  more  shallow  ; 
the  grave  was  yawning  for  him.  If  he  died  not 
now  in  the  exhaustion  of  this  first  repose,  he  must 
die  later  when  the  shock  of  disappointment  and  dis- 
illusion shook  his  soul  free  from  the  loosened  ties  of 
flesh.  For  Tonstain  had  just  heard  the  news  from 
Grenezay,  brought  by  a  fisher-boat,  of  Goyault's 
wondrous  victory  and  of  how  enchantment  no 
longer  held  the  Saxon  lady,  who  these  four  weeks 
gone  had  been  wedded  to  her  champion  of  the  lists. 

When  Karadac  came  to  hear  these  things,  as 
hear  he  must  since  his  first  waking  question  would 
be  of  them,  all  must  end  as  far  as  Tonstain's 
interest  was  concerned.  The  map  of  human  feeling, 
coloured  with  blood  through  all  its  vivid  traceries, 
now  displayed  before  his  curious  gaze,  would  be 
closed  for  ever,  Karadac's  wild  love  quenched  in 
grave  dust,  and  Gundred's  medley  of  emotions,  her 
travesty  of  hope,  could  but  sink  back  to  silent, 


152         THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN. 

dull-eyed  grief.  This  should  not  be  !  The  quick 
thought  stirred  in  Tonstain,  Karadac  must  be  saved. 
But  how  ?  Emergency  stimulated  the  scheming 
brain.  How  to  save  Karadac  ?  He  glanced  indif- 
ferently at  the  two  still  figures  in  their  dim  corner, 
and  a  fantastical  design,  so  bold,  so  fraught  with 
desperate  danger,  so  original,  and  promising  so  rare 
a  venture  into  unknown  and  delicate  entanglements 
of  feeling,  sprang  full-formed  in  his  mind.  A  thin 
smile  grew  to  firm  intention  on  his  lips  as  he 
rapidly  ran  over  all  the  obstacles  that  lay  in  the 
path  of  his  resolve.  A  whispered  word  here,  an 
order  there,  persuasion  playing  upon  hate  and  love, 
envy  and  self-interest  as  occasion  and  the  case  re- 
quired, these  he  could  trust  himself  to  use,  for  of  all 
the  arts  whereby  men  may  be  led  he  knew  himself 
the  master. 

An  unheard-of  scheme,  mad  some  would  call  it, 
and  perilous  beyond  imagination,  but  for  himself  he 
was  content  to  take  the  risk.  A  philosopher,  he 
was  aware  that  anything  worth  having  in  this  world 
exacts  a  heavy  payment.  Fate  might  not  spare 
him  when  the  day  of  retribution  came,  but  what  of 
that  ?  To  probe,  to  know,  to  vivisect  the  heart, 
was  his  sole  ambition.  The  means  lay  near  his 
hand  to  knit  up  the  lives  about  him  into  a  new  and 
horrible  complexity  such  as  no  man  had  heard  of. 
That  he  would  do,  and  rejoice  in  the  doing,  though 
Death  himself  thrust  in  his  hand  amongst  the  rank 
confusion. 


THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN.          153 

Foursquare  the  game  spread  itself  before  him, 
Karadac  and  Gundred,  Goyault  and  his  bride,  but 
it  was  about  the  first  two  that  his  imagination  lin- 
gered. Goyault,  brave,  sunny-hearted  and  popular, 
with  a  strand  or  two  of  nobler  feeling  than  the 
common  woven  into  his  heart  ;  Algitha,  beautiful 
— yes,  beautiful  as  a  boy's  first  dream,  but  a  woman 
and  no  more  when  all  was  said :  both  pleasant  to 
the  eye  and  good  as  the  world  went,  but  Algitha 
lacking  the  tragic  strength  of  Gundred  as  Goyault 
lacked  the  spell  of  Karadac's  unfathomed  nature. 

A  gull  cried  hoarsely  as  it  swept  past  in  the 
afternoon  glow  and  cast  a  fleeting  zigzag  of  shadow 
across  the  deepset  lance  of  window.  At  the  sound 
the  sick  man  stirred  and  moaned,  and  his  writhen 
hand  crept  outwards  feebly  as  if  seeking  another 
clasp. 

"  Algitha,  if  you  be  not  a  dream,  kiss  me,"  the 
murmur,  husky  and  dry,  could  scarce  be  heard  ; 
"  kiss  me  this  once  before  ...  I  ...  die." 

The  kneeling  woman  had  laid  her  fingers  in  his 
with  a  touch  of  soft  caress,  but  now  she  hesitated. 

Karadac's  sighing  breath  brought  one  more  word. 

"  Algitha." 

Gundred  flung  up  one  look  at  Tonstain's  peering 
eyes,  a  tortured  look  defiant  of  his  scorn,  then  laid 
her  lips  fondly  on  the  fever-darkened  lips  that  in 
the  sorrowful  enchantment  of  blindness  sought  her 
kisses.  A  moment  later  Karadac  slept  again,  smil- 
ing in  his  rest. 


154         THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN. 

Tonstain  waited,  knowing  that  the  Count's  sleep 
must  soon  drop  again  to  profound  depths  of  uncon- 
sciousness. Then  beckoning  to  Gundred  he  drew 
her  aside  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Gundred,  what  think  you  will  happen  when  Goy- 
ault  returns  and  the  Count  recovers  health  and 
strength,  as  perchance  he  may  ?  " 

"  What  God  wills,"  she  answered  weariedly. 

"And  perchance  Goyault  will  bring  back  with 
him  the  Saxon  girl.  What  then  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  care  then  ?  "  her  eyes  widened  and  she 
smiled  with  some  disdain  ;  "  my  day  will  be  over." 

"  Will  you  give  to  his  arms  " — he  nodded  towards 
the  sleeping  Count — "  that  Algitha  whom  but  now 
you  personated  ?  " 

"  Tonstain  de  Priaulx,  how  vile  a  thing  you  are  ! 
Can  I  not  read  your  subtle  quest  ?  Cut  to  the  bone, 
torture  the  stricken  heart,  lay  your  envenomed 
touch  upon  the  quivering  sore !  These  are  your  di- 
versions, and  all  to  feed  a  hungry  inquisition  of  the 
mind,  a  peeping  curiousness  which  would  pierce 
Heaven's  high  secrets  if  it  dared  !  " 

"  Nay,  lady,  I  have  no  traffic  with  the  other 
world  ;  to  know  what  there  is  of  this  contents  me," 
he  said  derisively. 

"  And  dwells  not  Heaven  in  a  loving  heart  ?  "  she 
asked  passionately. 

"  Why  no,  from  observation  I  would  say  there  is 
oftenest  Hell." 

"  Poor  soul !  "  was  her  unexpected  rejoinder  ; 
"  you  cannot  understand." 


THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN.          155 

"  But  I  can  see,"  he  rejoined  pointedly. 

"  Aye,  and  you  hear  ;  but  if  one  spoke  before  you 
in  an  unknown  tongue  your  hearing  could  not  help 
you  to  the  meaning." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  said  Tonstain  with  good-humour, 
and  paused  to  let  the  subject  pass.  "Then  let  me 
speak  of  that  which  I  do  know.  Listen, — you  kissed 
the  Count  but  now,  he  dreaming  you  were  his 
Algitha." 

"  You  think  to  shame  me  ?  You  cannot — my 
time  of  shame  is  past." 

"  But  what  of  Karadac  when  he  learns  the  truth  ?  " 

She  winced. 

"  It  is  done  ;  the  first  time  and  the  last.  His  life 
hung  in  the  balance  at  that  moment." 

"  Yes,  it  is  done,  but  will  he  forgive  ?  " 

"  I  bear  my  own  burden,  Tonstain,"  she  replied 
with  dignity. 

"  Then  hear  me.  At  last  news  has  come  from 
Grenezay.  Goyault  has  overthrown  Gauthier  de 
Morlaix  and  saved  Earl  Algar's  daughter." 

"A  full  month  agone,  as  I  count !  For  he  has 
lain  here  four  weeks  sick  to  death.  And  why  does 
Goyault  linger?"  she  questioned  sharply. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  become  us  to  remember  the 
lady  is  most  beautiful,  and  springs,  if  report  speak 
truly,  from  a  family  which  has  won  favour  in  high 
places  before  now — aye,  and,  further,  despised  the 
favour  won ! " 

Gundred  frowned  at  him,  her  thick  brows  almost 
meeting. 


156        THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTAIN. 

"  I  perceive  that  you  are  talking  to  some  end, 
Tonstain.  I  would  you  were  come  at  it !  " 

"  Have  you  not  heard  the  tale  of  this  girl's  kins- 
man Brithric  Maude,  son  of  Algar,  lord  of  the 
honour  of  Gloucester  ?  Indeed,  few  know  it,  but  I 
was  at  the  Court  of  Flanders  when  this  tall  youth 
came  with  an  Embassy  from  England.  We  sur- 
named  him  Snow,  so  like  to  snow  was  his  white 
skin ;  and  long  golden  locks  fell  curling  to  his 
shoulders  in  the  Saxon  fashion.  His  height  and 
marvellous  comeliness  set  him  apart  from  other 
men,  therefore  a  great  lady  of  the  Court  saw  and 
loved  him." 

"  Was  she  also  beautiful  ?  "  Gundred  showed  a 
sudden  interest. 

"  Dark-eyed,  with  clear  and  noble  features.  Her 
love  so  gained  upon  her  that  she  sent  a  message,  or 
as  some  say,  a  letter,  to  the  Saxon,  wherein  she 
gave  him  hope  that  he  might  win  her,  although  the 
blood  in  her  proud  veins  was  royal." 

"Beautiful  and  royal  too!  So  he  won  her? 
Well,  it  is  a  story  of  a  woman's  gain ;  for  that  I 
like  it." 

"  Stay,  the  issue  runs  otherwise.  He  did  not  win 
her,  for  he  would  not  woo." 

Gundred  spoke  coldly.  "  This  is  an  allegory 
after  all.  What  does  it  signify?" 

"  It  is  a  truth,  no  allegory.  A  rare  instance. 
But  why  more  hard  to  believe  than  the  common 
story  of  a  sordid  or  a  sensual  yielding  to  her  will  ? 


THE  GUILE  OF  TONSTA1N.         157 

Beautiful  and  royal  she  was,  so  that  many  princes 
sought  her  favour,  yet  this  English  churl  would 
none  of  her." 

"And  the  lady?" 

"  Wedded  another  lord,  who  dragged  her  in  the 
mire  and  with  his  stirrup-leather  taught  her  to 
adore  him." 

"  It  is  an  idle  tale  !     The  Lady  Matilda—" 

"  Wife  of  our  most  noble  suzerain  William,  duke 
of  Normandy,  once  wooed  and  lost  the  kinsman  of 
this  witch  Algitha  !  " 

Gundred  pondered  awhile  upon  the  story  before 
she  spoke  again. 

"  Was  Goyault  wounded  that  he  delays  to  bring 
this  lady  home?  " 

"  They  come  shortly.  But  there  is  other  news 
from  Grenezay." 

Gundred  stood  looking  at  him. 

"  You  have  some  meaning.  Let  me  hear  it  and 
have  done.  What  is  this  that  you  would  have  me 
know?" 

"  Algitha  will  not  wed  Count  Karadac." 

"Will  not?"  Gundred  challenged  furiously,  her 
nostrils  curved,  her  black  eyes  full  of  fire.  "  Will 
not  ? — By  all  the  saints,  she  shall !  " 


CHAPTER  II. 

LOVE'S  CHANGELING. 

TONSTAIN,  for  all  his  deep  knowledge  of  the  hu- 
man heart,  stood  amazed.  Here  was  a  new  Gun- 
dred,  not  that  poor  unhappy  jealous  thing  who 
moved  in  timid  tendance  round  the  sick  man's 
couch.  A  new  Gundred  who,  with  a  regal  insist- 
ence, brushed  aside  the  refusal  of  her  rival  and 
swore  that  Karadac  should  gain  his  heart's  desire. 
Tonstain's  grosser  calculations  had  never  reached, 
nor  could  ever  grasp,  the  sum  of  selflessness  and 
greatness  which  sprang  to  active  life  within  this 
woman's  breast  when,  knowing  the  Count's  dire 
need  she  made  ready  to  force  Algitha  into  his  arms. 

Tonstain's  prying  soul  sent  out  another  tentacle. 

"That  is  not  all.  She  loves  Goyault,  or  so  they 
say." 

"  She  has  not  seen  the  Count,"  Gundred  answered 
confidently. 

"  Goyault,  as  you  remember,  is  a  comely  knight, 
and  gay  and  debonnair." 

She  drew  her  head  erect. 

"And  is  he  not  comely?"  she  turned  towards 
the  couch.  "  Who  could  compare  them  ?  Goyault 
in  sooth !— a  chattering  sparrow  to  a  falcon  !  " 


LOVE'S  CHANGELING.  159 

The  man  raised  his  eyebrows.  As  was  Gundred, 
such  are  the  few,  the  rarest  and  the  best,  who  hav- 
ing seen  one  vision  of  Love  see  naught  else  but 
him  reflected  even  in  grey  hair  and  wrinkles  to  their 
lives'  end. 

"  Earl  Algar's  daughter  has  been  proved  no 
witch,  but  that  she  owns  a  will  is  indisputable. 
And  report  says  she  has  most  openly  declared  she 
will  not  wed  the  Count  of  Gersay." 

"  Wait  until  she  comes,"  said  Gundred  with  sad 
faith.  "  He  will  find  means  to  persuade  her." 

"  For  sake  of  argument  I  will  admit  that  might 
have  been  had  she  not  already  been  persuaded." 

"  What  ? — Then  she  shall  be  taught  to  change  her 
mind." 

"  A  four  weeks'  marriage  puts  aside  all  talk  of 
change." 

A  sallow  pallor  spread  over  Gundred's  face. 

"  Married — and  to  Goyault  ?  You  need  not  name 
him — To  Goyault !  The  traitorous  thought  was  in 
his  mind  before  he  left  our  shore  !  "  Then  her  fear 
was  uttered.  "  When  the  Count  hears  of  this  he 
will  die  ! "  She  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  filled,  as 
it  seemed  to  Tonstain's  crafty  eye,  with  remorseful 
sorrow.  But  she  had  always  loved  the  Count  well 
and  been  faithful  to  him — what  cause  for  remorse 
had  she?  The  scent  of  a  new  secret  flattered  him. 

"  I  think  that  he  will  die,"  agreed  Tonstain  coldly, 
"  unless  you  save  him." 

Gundred  looked  up  sharply  at  the  words. 


160  LOVE'S  CHANGELING. 

"Alas,  not  mine  the  power  !  Yet  would  to  God 
that  I  could  save  him,  for  it  is  I  have  laid  him 
low  ! " 

The  man  breathed  short,  yet  tried  to  hide  his 
eagerness. 

"Are  you  also  a  witch,  lady?" 

"A  witch? — no,  no.  Only  an  unloved,  bitter 
jealous  woman  who  prayed  wild  curses  on  the  head 
she  loved,  and  whose  prayer  was  granted  !  " 

Then  Tonstain  felt  indeed  the  stars  in  their 
courses  fought  for  him.  Gundred  sank  upon  a 
bench  beside  the  wall,  and  laboured  to  still  the 
sobs  that  tore  her  breast.  She  was  all  woman  now, 
swayed  by  tempestuous  emotion  like  a  girl,  and 
having  neither  force  nor  reason  left  wherewith  to 
oppose  his  purpose. 

"  If  that  be  so,  you  owe  our  lord  a  wide  and  deep 
amend,  lady.  It  lies  with  you  to  save  him  at  a  sore 
cost  of  suffering  and  danger  to  yourself." 

She  uncovered  her  flushed  face. 

"  You  are  so  cruel,  Tonstain,  that  at  this  moment 
I  believe  you  do  but  mock  my  misery,"  she  said. 

"  I  swear  to  you  by  all  I  hold  most  sacred  that  I 
speak  the  simple  truth." 

"  Tell  me  quickly.     I  would  die  for  him  ! " 

"  My  remedy  may  tax  you  more  heavily  than 
that,"  he  returned  ;  "  hear  it.  In  his  long  raving 
dreams  our  lord  Count  has  imagined  the  presence 
of  the  woman  he  loves.  We  know  not  how  much 
he  may  remember  when  he  wakes  to  his  full  reason. 


LOVE'S  CHANGELING.  161 

But,  however  that  may  issue,  it  is  most  certain  he 
will  ask  for  news  of  her  or  demand  that  she  be 
brought  to  have  speech  with  him.  How  shall  we 
answer?" 

Gundred  lay  back  as  one  exhausted,  her  heavy 
eyes  downcast.  She  shook  her  head  despairingly. 

"  Our  good  lord  has  lost  his  sight,  and  on  that 
loss  do  I  rely  to  save  him." 

The  woman  raised  herself  to  gaze  up  with  a 
strained  anxiety  into  those  inscrutable  eyes. 

"There  is  only  one  way."  Tonstain's  delibera- 
tion penetrated  to  her  brain.  "  When  he  shall  ask 
for  Algitha,  she  must  come  to  him." 

"  What — Goyault's  wife  !  "  she  cried  out. 
"  No,   lady,  another  Algitha,  who  will  seem    as 
fair  and  dear  to  his  broken  sense  as  the  Algitha  he 
loved  in  that  fatal  picture  at  Gouray." 

"  Deceive  him  ? — take  advantage  of  his  helpless- 
ness!— add  a  crown  to  Goyault's  treachery,  give 
him  for  wife  a  falsehood ;  lie  to  him,  dare  to  touch 
with  our  perfidious  hands  that  which  we  know  he 
holds  most  sacred  dear  !  "  She  stood  upright  and 
motioned  him  away.  "  Go,  Tonstain,  and  on  your 
knees  ask  Heaven  to  forgive  the  treason  that  you 
planned  !  " 

"  Is  it  a  treason  to  desire  to  save  his  life?"  de- 
manded Tonstain  calmly  ;  "  treachery  to  the  State 
to  keep  a  ruler  whom  we  ill  can  spare  while 
troubles  grow  daily  at  duke  William's  Court  ?  Be 
patient,  lady ;  there  is  more  here  than  treason. 


162  LOVE'S  CHANGELING. 

When  all's  said,  I  am  but  urging  that  which  you 
have  done." 

"  Enough  of  that !  I  was  wrong,  it  may  be,  it 
was  the  treachery  of  an  instant,  but  the  temptation 
came  upon  me  to  save  him." 

"  True,  and  I  called  no  hard  names." 

Gundred  sat  down  once  more ;  the  apathy  of 
spent  vital  force  weighed  heavy  on  her. 

"  Tell  me  all  your  mind.  Heaven  knows  alone 
what  is  to  do." 

"  This  is  to  do,  there  is  no  other  way  of  it." 
Tonstain  was  ready  to  strike  home.  "  You  shall  be 
Algitha  and  wed  Count  Karadac  for  his  health's 
sake." 

Gundred  sprang  up,  her  hands  pressed  to  her 
heart. 

"  I — I  to  be  a  thing  so  base  !  " 

"  What  other  will  you  give  my  lord  to  wife  ? — a 
stranger?" 

"  No  stranger  could  play  the  part — But  it  is  folly 
all !  " 

"  Folly  ?  Look  at  Count  Karadac  and  tell  me  is 
it  folly,  or  is  it  not  rather  the  last  frail  strand  of 
hope  which  holds  him  still  to  a  shaken  anchorage 
on  life." 

As  he  spoke  Karadac  drew  a  long,  sighing  breath, 
so  weak  and  pitiful  it  seemed  no  other  could  suc- 
ceed it.  His  worn  face,  bedewed  and  ghastly,  with 
dry  parted  lips,  already  bore  the  seal  of  death. 
His  shadowy  hand  moved  feebly,  and  as  she 


LOVE'S  CHANGELING.  163 

watched  it  Gundred  felt  as  if  its  touch  were  on  her 
heart-strings. 

"  He  wakes.  Go  to  him,  give  him  this  cordial," 
Tonstain  whispered  ;  "  aye,  and  the  cordial  of  your 
lips.  Remember,  if  he  awakes  and  finds  not  Al- 
githa,  he  dies." 

Gundred  was  beside  the  bed,  and  bending  over 
Karadac  put  the  cordial  to  his  lips.  When  he  had 
swallowed  it  they  stirred  but  no  voice  was  audible  ; 
only  as  Gundred's  hand  sought  his,  the  fingers  tried 
to  close  on  hers. 

"  I  am  still  beside  my  lord,"  she  murmured,  and 
his  dull  ear  heard,  for  he  smiled  faintly  and  slept 
again. 

"  I  have  no  need  for  further  argument,"  said  Ton- 
stain,  when  Gundred  turned  once  more  towards  him, 
drawn  as  it  seemed  unwillingly  to  hear  the  end  of 
his  bold  project.  "  He  may  live  with  happiness, 
but  not  without  it." 

One  hand  clenched  upon  the  other,  she  stood  for 
a  long  time  communing  with  herself.  Tonstain 
could  gather  nothing  from  her  troubled  aspect, 
since,  whichever  way  she  turned,  there  danger  and 
sorrow  lurked. 

"  The  thing  is  visionary,  it  is  not  possible,"  she 
said  at  last.  "  How  long  could  we  keep  so  manifest 
a  secret  from  his  knowledge?  Just  so  long  as  he 
lies  here  helpless  and  alone.  And  more  than  that, 
he  must  guess  it  for  himself  when  he  recovers  all 
the  use  of  all  his  senses.  Will  he  not  know  my 


164  LOVE'S  CHANGELING. 

voice,  perhaps  detect  my  very  presence  by  some 
keen  apprehension  new-given  to  the  blind  ?  Speak 
of  it  no  more  !  If  it  were  possible  to  deceive  him 
for  his  good,  I  know  not  how  I  might  answer  you, 
but  it  would  make  bad  worse  to  add  outrage  to  his 
loss,  to  fail  in  a  device  whose  sole  excuse  would  lie 
in  even  a  short  measure  of  success." 

But  Tonstain  stood  unshaken. 

"  The  happy  ask  few  questions.  Who  so  easily 
deceived  as  one  content  to  go  hand  in  hand  with 
his  belief?" 

She  sighed  impatiently. 

"You  cannot  persuade  me!  Do  you  know  this 
Algitha  has  a  tongue  of  silver,  so  they  have  told 
him.  That  gracious  gift  is  hers — it  is  not  mine." 

Tonstain  laughed  in  his  heart.  She  was  all  but 
won,  although  she  argued  still. 

"  Your  voice  is  very  sweet,  lady — " 

"  Aye,  but  who  can  loose  my  tongue  ?  "  she  said 
with  passion.  "  I  am  doubly  cursed  in  that  !  " 

"  If  I  can  unloose  it  and  so  set  free  your  speech, 
will  you  save  the  Count? — Trust  me,  lady,  all  is 
possible." 

"What?  you  can  untie  my  stammering  tongue? 
Then  work  your  will  upon  it  now — now — now! 
That  would  lend  colour  to  your  scheming.  Give 
me  one  proof,  and  I  will  stand  by  all  your  counsel." 

"  I  have  your  promise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  swear  it.  If  we  can  by  any  means 
give  the  Count  strength  to  gather  strength,  after- 


LOVE'S  CHANGELING.  165 

wards  we  will  tell  him  we  did  him  this  wrong  to 
save  him.  He  will  not  forgive  me — aye,  I  know  it, 
but  I  can  bear  that  also." 

"  The  mind  of  man  is  a  riddle  :  let  the  future 
solve  it.  Meanwhile,  Lady  Gundred,  one  thing 
more.  Should  you  consent  to  play  this  part,  I  must 
give  knowledge  of  it  to  all  who  dwell  with  us  in  the 
Castle  here,  lest  any  coming  to  him  unaware  should 
frustrate  us  by  some  ignorant  betrayal ;  "  he  stopped, 
half  doubtful  of  her  answer.  For  his  thought  was 
that  if  all  men  knew,  and  all  were  equally  committed 
to  so  hazardous  a  venture,  Gundred  could  not  draw 
back  or  make  confession  when  the  mood  seized  her, 
since  in  her  own  ruin  she  must  overwhelm  many. 
Thus  he  hoped  to  secure  her  to  his  will. 

But  for  the  time  Gundred's  keen  sense,  her  hold 
on  the  common  things  of  life,  were  all  lost  in  the 
flame  and  marvel  of  Tonstain's  stratagem. 

"As  you  will,"  she  said  indifferently.  "The 
shame,  if  shame  there  is,  lies  not  in  the  telling  but 
the  doing." 


CHAPTER  III. 

LOVE'S   MOCKERY. 

A  WEEK  trailed  slowly  by.  Slowly,  that  is,  to 
some  in  the  Castle  of  Gros-Nez,  but  not  to  Kara- 
dac,  who  felt  with  each  fresh  dawn  the  spring  of  a 
new  life, — a  life  such  as  he  had  never  known  before 
his  blindness,  for  it  was  all  strange  gladness  and 
pure  joy,  that  did  not  vanish  with  the  passing  hour 
but  grew  until  it  shed  an  all-pervading  luminance 
on  his  dark  path. 

Health  came  back  to  him,  and  each  precious  day 
brought  for  a  short  space  at  morn  and  eve  a  pres- 
ence with  soft  movements  and  low  voice,  whose  in- 
tonation, slow  and  delicately  clear,  charmed  him 
with  a  hundred  rare  sweet  tricks  of  utterance.  Be- 
ing blind,  he  dwelt  the  more  upon  her  voice,  and 
wholly  it  bewitched  him. 

"  Lady,  where  learnt  you  these  little  turns  of 
stress  and  accent?  "  he  said  one  day.  "  I  think  the 
angels  taught  you,  for  never  yet  did  woman  speak 
like  you  !  " 

"  Alas,  that  has  ever  been  my  fault !  "  Gundred 
answered  truthfully. 

"  Fault  ? — unless  it  be  a  fault  that  your  words  are 
set  in  rhythm  to  a  man's  heartbeats  so  close  they 


LOVE'S  MOCKERY.  167 

answer  to  the  leaping  of  his  blood,"  was  the  passion- 
ate  response.  "How  cool  the  air  blows  upon  my 
brows !  " 

It  was  a  gloomy  afternoon  that  promised  rain, 
and  already  a  damp  breeze  came  sighing  through 
the  window.  Gundred  shivered. 

"  It  is  the  presage  of  the  rain,  sweet  but  not  last- 
ing," she  replied. 

"Rain  or  shine,  what  matters  it  if  happiness  glows 
within  to  keep  the  spirit  warm  !  " 

Was  she  happy  ?  She  paused  to  ask  herself  the 
question,  and  Karadac,  sensitive  to  her  silence, 
raised  himself  upon  the  two  arms  of  the  chair 
wherein  he  lay  propped  with  cushioned  cloaks. 

"  Are  you  not  happy,  Lady  Algitha?  " 

The  anxious  tenderness  of  affection  linked  to  the 
hated  name  tossed  Gundred's  hot  heart  in  those 
cross  currents  of  emotion  s'he  had  not  yet  learnt  how 
to  weather,  and  which  many  a  time  came  near  to 
swamping  her  frail  bark. 

"  So  happy,"  she  faltered;  "safe,  and  at  peace." 

He  leaned  back  but  half  satisfied,  yet  so  much  as 
he  desired  could  not  come  quickly,  and  he  schooled 
himself  to  patience. 

A  timid  hand  came  about  his  head  to  smooth  the 
ruffled  folds  beneath  it,  and  to  his  waiting  sense  it 
seemed  to  linger  in  its  task.  On  that  his  seeking 
fingers  followed  hers. 

"  Lady,  lend  me  your  hand.  I  still  fear  I  am 
a-dream." 


168  LOVE'S  MOCKERY. 

"  Nay,  but  you  are  awake,"  she  said  with  a  soft 
merriment,  and  he  pictured  the  smile  she  wore, 
"  awake,  and  growing  stronger  day  by  day." 

He  drew  her  hand  upon  his  lips. 

"  I  grow  stronger  with  this  to  give  me  courage. 
Soon,  lady,  we  will  leave  this  bleak  and  wind-torn 
spot  for  my  own  Castle  of  Gouray.  And  before  the 
summer  goes  I  would  take  you — we  will  ride 
together  then,  if  Heaven  be  kind — to  a  little  shrine 
near  Grouville,  the  Chapel  of  Saint  Margueritte. 
For  it  was  there  I  first  looked  on  your  picture — 
that  blessed  sight  without  which  happiness  had  re- 
mained unknown  to  me  for  ever!  " 

The  hand  in  his  was  cold. 

"What — the  picture  at  Saint  Margueritte's  ? " 
Gundred  almost  forgot  again.  "  I  never  heard  of 
that." 

"Ah,  Goyault  told  you  I  had  seen  it  first  at 
Gouray  ?  Dear  lady,  I  had  passed  the  whole  night 
in  prayer  with  the  hermit  on  Saint  Helier's  rock 
thanking  Heaven  for  the  knowledge  of  you,  ere 
ever  I  returned  to  my  Castle  and  they  told  me  the 
story  which  was  mine  already.  None  but  ourselves 
shall  know  where  first  we  met,  dear  lady,  for,  gazing 
upon  your  picture,  I  thought  the  eyes  answered  to 
my  own  and  called  me  to  your  aid.  That  lies  be- 
tween thee  and  me." 

Gundred  set  her  teeth  hard,  loathing  herself  to 
think  that  unawares  she  was  winning  all  the  secrets 
of  his  love  from  him,  yet  driven  to  hear  them  by 
her  rage  of  jealousy. 


LOVE'S  MOCKERY.  169 

The  Count  sat  thinking  for  a  while. 

"  Goyault  was  very  sad  that  evening  as  we  two 
took  oath  in  the  Castle  chapel  that  we  would  be 
your  champions  to  the  death.  Was  he  still  sad  in 
Grenezay  ?  " 

"  No,  but  joyous,  for  there  he  found  the  lady 
whom  he  loved,"  said  Gundred. 

"  What — say  you  so  ?  Then  I  am  doubly  glad  ! 
I  thought  indeed  he  withheld  somewhat  from  me. 
Love  doth  work  a  curious  alteration  in  a  man. 
Goyault  is  open  as  the  day  yet  he  concealed  his 
hope,  and  I,  who  seldom  can  babble  of  such  things 
as  move  in  me  strongly,  told  him  of  you — and  of 
my  love.  For  I  do  love  you,  lady,  as  you  well 
know,"  he  added  humbly. 

Now  there  was  one  woman,  not  Algitha,  of  whom 
Gundred  was  fain  to  make  him  speak,  of  that  one — 
she  almost  seemed  a  stranger  to  Gundred  now — 
who  lay  her  length  among  the  June  flowers.,  forsaken 
and  unconsoled,  and  cursed  the  man  she  loved  by 
all  the  gods  she  knew. 

"  Nay,  how  can  we  tell  what  is  love?  For  you, 
lord  Count,  have  surely  loved  before  ?  " 

"  I  had  sought  for  love  and  found  it  not.  Easy 
loves  I  had  in  truth,  such  as  all  men  can  acquire, 
but  I  was  not  greedy  for  the  husks  which  some  call 
love.  Mine  was  a  desire  of  the  soul — though  I, 
poor  fool,  had  sought  it  through  the  flesh  ! " 

"  But  some  have  loved  you  ?  " 

Karadac  shook  his  head. 


i;o  LOVE'S  MOCKERY. 

"  Only  such  as  love  while  you  feed  them." 

"  Nay,  lord,  I  know  that  some  have  loved  you 
truly.  Some  have  mourned  for  you  and  would  fain 
have  given  all  that  you  could  ask  of  love,  the  high- 
est and  the  best !  " 

Something  in  her  tones  set  his  pulses  beating. 
She  was  so  sure  that  others  loved  him,  might  it  not 
be  because  she  felt  moved  thereto  in  her  own 
breast  ?  Answering  her,  he  gave  a  fleeting  thought 
to  Gundred's  last  avowal,  but  she  could  not  have 
given  him  that  wondrous  blend  of  soul  and  heart 
and  mind  which  day  by  day  revealed  itself  in 
Algitha. 

"  No,  I  knew  of  none.  You  only,  lady,  of  all  the 
world—" 

"  How  know  you  that  ? "  she  cried  out  in  her 
pain.  "  You  only  saw  a  picture  and  built  up  from 
her  fair  face  and  form  the  woman  you  had  dreamt 
of  !  Had  she  been  uncomely — " 

"  I  cannot  so  imagine  you,"  he  answered  gravely. 
"  Yet  in  truth  it  is  a  chance  which  might  well  befall 
a  man."  Then  shaking  off  his  graver  air,  he  smiled. 
"It  is  a  new  thought  and  has  its  own  significance 
for  others,  but  for  me — none.  I  have  found  you  ! " 

"  An  ideal,  built,  as  I  have  told  you,  from  the 
eye  alone." 

"  Not  so,  Algitha,  for  every  day  doth  prove  my 
heart  a  true  prophet.  That  which  I  foresaw,  you 
are." 

Thus  Karadac  outpoured  to  Gundred's  ears  his 


LOVE'S  MOCKERY.  171 

inmost  thoughts  which  such  as  he  keep  for  the 
loved  one  only.  He  told  her  of  Ulake  and  that 
summer  night  when  his  eyes  dwelt  on  the  horizon 
as  if  with  the  premonition  of  her  coming.  Aye, 
and  much  more,  for  she  answered  him  like  the  dim 
echo  to  a  joyful  shout,  shy,  far-off,  but  attuned  to 
the  same  key. 

It  may  not  be  written  down  how  Gundred  lis- 
tened, turning  the  knife  in  the  wound — a  soul  in 
torment !  There  were  wild  moments  when  she 
could  have  told  him  all  in  the  access  of  her  jealous 
frenzy.  Algitha — and  yet  Algitha  !  How  he  loved 
— how  he  could  love  !  She  had  known  it  through 
the  long  hungry  years  and  longed  to  hear  him  say  as 
now  he  said  :  "  I  loved  you  then,"  "  And  then  such 
was  my  thought  of  you,"  an  exquisite  inconsequence 
of  memories  heaped  up  about  one  name.  But  now 
she  heard  them  as  one  who  overhears  ;  to  her  the 
words  were  spoken,  yet  she  had  no  part  in  them  ! 
Clothed  in  another's  empty  title,  she  suffered  those 
caresses  once  so  desperately  yearned  for  and  im- 
agined in  older  days. 

And  he  in  his  blindness  wandered  on,  kissing  the 
brown  hand  he  held,  and  desiring  a  glimpse  of  vision 
if  but  to  praise  its  whiteness.  Then  turning  back 
to  vow  he  had  no  more  to  wish  for  since  she  was 
there — Algitha,  who  in  her  divine  pity  had  come  to 
him,  maimed,  wrecked  and  broken  as  he  was. 

Then  Gundred,  in  one  of  those  strange  changes 
of  her  moods,  flashed  out  in  a  grave  playfulness 


172  LOVE'S  MOCKERY. 

that  none  before  had  ever  seen  her  use.  She  with- 
drew her  hand,  accusing  him. 

"  I  will  not  give  my  hand  to  one  who  can  speak 
ill  of  the  Count  of  Gersay.  Only  a  traitor  could 
call  him  thus,  '  broken  and  maimed  and  wrecked  '  !  " 

Karadac's  dark  face  lit  up. 

"  Why  not,  lady,  since  so,  alas  !  he  is  become  ?  " 

"  That  I  deny  !  For  I  hold  he  is  the  noblest 
knight  of  all  the  world ! — brave  and  strong  and 
fierce — and  tender  !  " 

The  verve  of  the  opening  and  the  sudden  fall  of 
the  last  words  enthralled  him. 

"  Algitha  !  "  he  cried  aloud,  "  you  cannot  love 
me ! — I,  a  broken  man,  although  in  your  sweet 
kindness  you  would  deny  it, — blind,  an  outcast  from 
the  common  life  of  other  men.  I,  who  can  no 
longer  tilt  for  your  dear  name  nor  carry  your  badge 
to  battle  !  How  could  you  give  your  loveliness  and 
youth  to  such  as  I  ?  Now,  had  it  been  Goy- 
ault— ! " 

"  Goyault !  "  the  soft,  scornful  repetition  fired  him 
anew. 

"  Algitha,  for  the  love  of  Christ,  tell  me — can  it 
be?" 

He  stretched  out  his  arms,  and  from  out  of  his 
darkness  one  came  and  knelt  beside  him,  and  he 
clasped  them  round  the  form  and  drew  it  close. 

Thus  it  was  that  Gundred  at  length  laid  her 
weary  head  upon  her  lover's  breast. 

In  a  wordless  rapture  he  kissed  her  hair  and  brow 


LOVE'S  MOCKERY.  173 

and  eyes,  then  with  a  strange,  soft  touch  of  rever- 
ence he  won  her  lips.  And  she,  restraining  her  own 
passion,  yielded  to  his  will,  aching  to  know  how 
small  the  reverence  he  owed  her.  Resting  within 
his  arms,  robbing  him  of  those  first  words  and 
kisses ;  half-distraught  she  was  between  the  gnawing 
strain  of  self  and  circumstance. 

"  Algitha,  you  cannot   love  me  ?  "  he  murmured. 

"  Do  I  not,  lord? — then  what  is  it  to  love?  " 

"  Dear  heart,  I  have  seemed  to  see  you  hovering 
above  me  on  bright  wings,  and  feared  that  when  I 
sought  to  hold  you  in  my  arms  you  would  depart." 

"  And  leave  you  thus  ?  " 

"  Aye,  thus  for  ever,  in  the  dark — alone  ! " 

For  answer,  he  felt  the  tears  upon  her  cheek. 
There  was  no  room  for  words  ;  the  load  of  happiness 
pressed  down  upon  his  heart. 

When  at  length  he  spoke  again  it  was  to  ask  her 
when  she  had  learnt  to  love  him,  what  spirit  had 
drawn  her  to  his  side. 

"  I  had  heard  of  you,  seigneur, — many  speak  of 
you." 

"  In  Grenezay  ?— It  was  Goyault ! — he  gave  you 
all  my  message  ? — ah,  faithful  friend  !  " 

"  Nay,  it  was  long  and  long  before  I  saw  Goyault. 
In  the  past  years  I  heard  your  name — and  loved  it." 

"  My  name,  sweetheart — you  loved  my  name  ? 
Say  it  in  your  dear  voice  as  you  have  said  it  to 
yourself  before  we  met." 

Gundred,  with  her  cheek  pressed  to  his,  whispered  : 


i/4  LOVE'S  MOCKERY. 

"  Karadac,  Karadac  !  I  would  that  such  a  knight 
as  Karadac  might  love  me !  " 

Thus  answering  each  to  each  they  told  in  frag- 
ments the  history  of  their  past,  and  Karadac  found 
in  her  replies  strange  echoes  of  his  own  old  yearn- 
ings for  the  love  supreme.  It  seemed  almost  un- 
earthly to  hear  these  same  thoughts  from  other  lips, 
and  those  so  young  and  innocent  that  on  them  the 
sweet  breath  of  childhood  lingered  still. 

With  gentle  care  he  took  her  head  between  his 
hands  and  bent  down  his  face  towards  her  as  if 
through  his  closed  lids  he  could  see  her  by  the 
force  of  his  desire. 

"Love,  I  almost  seem  to  see  you  ! — to  see  that 
golden  head  and  the  red  mouth  which  tells  me  I 
am  beloved.  Love,  are  you  flushing  over  all  your 
fairness?  Can  you  not  feel  I  see  you? — Answer 
me  with  those  eyes  that  called  me  in  the  chapel 
of  Saint  Margueritte  !  "  then  raised  his  face  to 
heaven  :  "  God,  grant  me  to  see  her  as  she  is  !  " 

With  a  choked  cry  she  slipped  away  from 
between  the  wistful  hands.  His  prayer — to  see 
her  as  she  was ! — could  that  be  granted  as  her 
prayer  had  been — what  then  ?  Oh,  it  could  never 
be!  Better  die  a  hundred  deaths  of  pain  than 
meet  his  glance  of  loathing  and  contempt.. 
Crouched  by  him  on  the  ground,  a  burning  vision 
passed  before  her. 

"  No  more,  dear  lord,  no  more  ! "  she  sobbed. 
"  Suffer  me  to  leave  you  now.  I  will  return." 


LOVE'S  MOCKERY.  175 

But  Karadac  was  on  his  feet,  trembling  and 
stretching  out  groping  hand. 

"  What  have  I  done,  Algitha  ? — what  have  I 
done  ?  Beloved,  you  cannot  leave  me  so  !  What 
is  it  I  have  done  to  trouble  you  ?  " 

Swiftly  she  rose  and  steadied  his  weak  grasp  with 
her  own. 

"Nay,  lord — Karadac — what  have  you  done? 
Made  me  too  happy — that  is  all !  " 

On  the  dim  stone  staircase  Tonstain  met  her 
rushing  like  a  storm. 

"  All  goes  well,  lady  ?  " 

She  drew  back  as  if  at  bay,  and  he  saw  her  dark 
eyes  gleam. 

"  Aye,  for  I  am  in  hell !  And  'tis  you  have 
damned  me,  Tonstain  !  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA. 

UNDER  the  battlements  a  flagged  footway  led 
round  the  outer  wall.  There  Gundred  carried  her 
flooded  heart. 

The  August  rain  was  falling  soft  and  thick  and 
close  ;  below  tower  and  cliff  the  sea  swung  in  a 
deep  swell,  half  hidden  by  the  misty  veiling  of  the 
shower. 

She  was  alone ! — she  thanked  God  for  that,  if  for 
naught  else.  She  was  alone  to  face  he'r  trouble. 
The  sentinel  on  the  square  citadel  above  saw  the 
sweep  of  a  rich  robe  come  and  go  behind  a  jutting 
bastion. 

"  God,  grant  me  sight  to  see  her  as  she  is !  "  The 
words  and  prayer  had  stabbed  the  darkness  of  her 
soul  to  light.  What  had  she  done  ? — for  the  first 
time  she  saw  the  whole  infamy  of  Karadac's  be- 
trayal. Defraud  a  man  of  all  things,  wealth  and 
power  and  friendship,  but  leave  him  love  !  And  it 
was  no  enemy  had  done  this  thing,  but  she  who 
thought  she  loved  him  !  Borne  down  between  the 
shocks  of  love  and  jealousy,  she  had  lent  herself  to 
desecrate  his  inmost  shrine  of  dreams.  How  sacred 


THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA.          17; 

he  held  that  shrine  she  learned  more  fully  day  by 
day. 

With  hurrying  steps  she  paced  up  and  down  the 
footway  of  wet  granite,  her  head  between  her  hands, 
for  the  air  seemed  loud  with  clamorous  voices. 

She  knew  now  how  eager  she  had  been  from  the 
beginning  to  play  her  unnatural  part,  and  how  al- 
most happy  in  the  first  glow  of  playing  it.  She 
looked  back  upon  herself.  To  have  him  woo  her — 
to  usurp  his  tenderness — to  gather  to  herself  that 
knowledge  of  him  which  could  be  given  to  none 
save  her  he  loved — to  arrogate  the  outgoings  of  an 
affection  long  and  bitterly  refused  her — all  these 
had  raised  an  exultation  in  her  brain.  With  a 
venom  of  self-contempt  she  acknowledged  all.  She 
and  her  heart — how  unimaginably  fallen  ! 

Yet  even  at  such  an  hour  as  this  her  false  posses- 
sion of  him  filled  her  with  a  torture  of  joy  and 
pride  that  lasted  to  the  very  end. 

Better  die  a  thousand  deaths  than  be  deceived 
as  he  had  been  ! — Yet  could  she  go  and  tell  him 
all? 

The  inevitable  moment  had  arrived  when  she 
must  face  the  crisis  of  her  guilt.  How  would  it  be 
with  him  when  she  disclosed  the  truth  ? — when  he 
knew  that  it  was  not  Algitha  but  another  whom  he 
had  held  within  his  arms ;  and  to  whom  he  had 
poured  out  the  deep  things  of  his  love  ?  With  terri- 
ble foresight  GunJred  saw  the  heart-wound  she  must 
give.  She  pictured  Karadac's  self-loathing, — for 


I ;8        THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA. 

he  would  sicken  at  himself,  scoff  at  his  readiness  of 
fond  belief !  She  pictured  his  despair  when  in  the 
shattering  of  hope  and  happiness  his  defencelessness 
was  brought  home  to  him.  She  fancied  the  blind 
face  with  tears  upon  it,  and  clutched  at  the  air  in 
wild  anguish  of  remorse. 

How  could  she  tell  him  ? 

She  leaned  her  elbows  on  the  battlements  and 
looked  out  upon  the  towering  pinnacle  of  Gros-Nez. 
The  rain  had  passed  off  for  the  moment,  and  she 
saw  the  great  mass  with  bristling  spires  and  jagged 
fangs  clear-cut  against  a  background  of  sea  and  sky. 
Above  her  its  defiant  crest ;  below,  plunging  sheer 
down  into  the  depths,  the  unsealed  side  rowelled 
into  spikes  and  spines  of  living  rock.  With  steady 
swing  the  water  rose  about  the  lower  spurs  and  fell 
back  fretted  into  a  thousand  rivulets. 

How  could  she  tell  him  ?  Once  it  had  seemed 
almost  an  easy  task  to  kneel  and  to  confess  that 
she  had  deceived  him  to  restore  his  ebbing  life : 
but  now,  how  dreadful,  how  impossible  !  So  much 
had  passed  between  them  since  that  day  when, 
hungering  for  his  love,  she  had  bought  it  at  such 
bitter  cost  to  both !  Now  she  felt  she  could  not 
live  to  say  the  words  which  must  be  spoken  if — 

A  rough-hewn  step  far  down  upon  the  Castle 
rock  caught  her  eye  and  broke  in  upon  her  reverie. 
She  leaned  out  and  saw  a  hidden  postern  door,  and 
leading  to  it  a  yard  or  two  of  dizzy  track — no  more. 
And  straightway  forgot  that  she  had  seen,  for  over 


THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA.          179 

against  her  on  the  towering  side  of  Gros-Nez  peak 
there  was  a  curving  granite  slope  flushed  as  a  faded 
rose,  and  seamed  and  wrinkled  into  a  network  of 
fine  lines  like  some  old  cheek.  Gundred's  eyes 
dwelt  long  upon  it.  It  held  her  spellbound,  this 
vision  of  unutterable  age.  Her  cheek  would  yet 
be  scored  as  that  was  by  the  chisel  of  the  years. 
How  short  at  best  was  our  poor  human  span  of  love 
and  joy  ! 

She  started  upright.  Why  not  hold  it  then, 
since  it  was  in  her  hand  !  Yes,  pursue  her  course, 
having  once  begun  it,  to  its  utmost  end.  She  had 
thought  of  her  marriage  with  Karadac  as  the  cap 
to  his  undoing,  the  extremity  of  outrage  on  his 
helplessness.  Whereas  in  truth,  being  deceived, 
let  him  live  on  in  the  dear  fancy  which  fulfilled  his 
dreams.  Algitha,  wife  of  Goyault,  could  be  even 
less  to  him  than  herself.  Fate  had  thrust  a  false 
gleam  of  joy  upon  them  both  ;  let  them  be  glad  in 
it  till  Fate's  shadow  fell  again.  Why  should  she 
hasten  the  day  of  ill? 

To  be  the  wife  of  Karadac,  to  possess  his  love 
and  confidence,  however  gained,  however  swiftly 
lost,  would  be  enough  to  fill  eternity  with  mem- 
ories. 

Or  soon  or  late,  the  hour  must  come  when  all  her 
world  would  fall  in  ruins  about  her  head,  but  once 
she  had  been  his  wife,  his  best-beloved,  it  mattered 
little  what  came  afterwards  !  Who  looks  beyond 
his  Day  of  Judgment  ? 


i8o        THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA. 

"  Poor  stone !  "  she  said,  "  you  who  have  never 
known  joy  or  tenderness  or  deep  desire,  you  still 
can  bear  unmoved  the  buffets  of  God's  storms. 
And  shall  I  flinch  while  I  can  satisfy  his  heart, 
and  snatch  for  him  and  for  myself  a  brief  span  of 
bliss  from  all  the"  empty  years  ?  It  is  enough !  I 
will  not  turn  back,  and  let  the  end  be  what  it  may  ! " 

Assured  of  Algitha,  Karadac  permitted  no  de- 
lays. His  heralds  and  his  messengers  passed 
through  the  island  bidding  all  men,  from  seigneur 
to  serf,  to  gather  for  his  marriage  at  Gouray. 

During  those  last  days  spent  in  Goyault's  Castle 
the  sun  hid  himself,  and  squalls  blew  up  from  the 
grey  waste  of  sea. 

Gundred,  waiting  for  the  ordeal  of  the  day  when 
she  should  stand  forth  as  the  false  bride  of  Karadac, 
listened  to  the  sorrow  of  the  rain  without  and 
moaning  wind,  and  knew  them  for  a  presage.  Sad 
days  of  early  autumn  that  seemed  to  weep  for  a 
dead  summer.  Settled  in  her  resolve,  she  passed 
long  hours  with  the  Count,  forgetting  while  she 
could  that  he  loved,  not  her,  but  the  hated  name 
she  bore.  And  day  by  day  she  won  upon  him  with 
her  subtle  brain,  quickened  to  keener  vigour  under 
the  stimulus  of  his  poet's  fantasies  and  her  own 
foreshadowing  that  the  time  was  short. 

And  Karadac  marvelled  at  her,  loving  her  the 
more  as  more  he  found  her  comparable  to  his  high- 
est thoughts, — thus  he  loved  her,  praised  her  until 
he  almost  broke  her  heart. 


THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA.          181 

Mid-August  came  in  a  new  burst  of  summer,  and 
with  it  Goyault  and  Algitha  from  Grenezay.  Ton- 
stain,  hearing  of  their  coming,  hurried  forth  to 
meet  them  at  the  gate,  and  as  they  talked  together 
he  marked  the  changes  that  a  month  of  marriage 
had  wrought  in  the  young  knight. 

This  was  no  longer  the  old  Goyault,  full  of  frank 
laughter  and  the  joy  of  a  free  heart,  but  a  man 
with  quick,  questioning  glances  in  his  eyes  and  a 
frown  that  came  to  brood  most  readily  on  his 
brows. 

As  for  Goyault,  to  his  apprehension  all  seemed 
changed.  Old  friends  looked  askance  at  him, 
though  some  whispered  leering  in  his  ear  that  much 
might  be  forgiven  one  with  so  fair  a  bride.  The 
warmth  of  greeting,  the  homeliness,  the  merry 
comfort  he  remembered,  all  were  gone,  and  in  their 
place  suspicion  and  furtive  smiles  and  curious 
regards. 

Tonstain  spoke  at  length  of  the  Count's  long 
sickness  and  recovery,  then  taking  those  two  apart 
where  none  might  overhear,  he  would  have  told 
them  all,  but  Goyault  cried  : 

"  I  need  no  middleman  betwixt  my  lord  and  me. 
Lead  on.  He  is  much  changed,  or  he  will  hear  me 
before  he  condemns  !  " 

"When  Count  Karadac  hears  your  defence  we 
shall  be  all  undone  !  "  said  Tonstain  with  a  thin 
smile.  "  That  much  is  certain." 

"  Go,  lead  on  !  "  Goyault  moved  imperiously. 


1 82         THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA. 

"  Stay,  Goyault.  What  think  you,  our  lord  has 
found  another  Lady  Algitha!  "  Tonstain  hung  on 
the  mailed  elbow  and  peered  eagerly  at  the  knight's 
surprise. 

"  Karadac  already  loves  another  ? — impossible  !  " 

"  Another,  yet  the  same,"  interposed  Tonstain 
slily,  and  while  the  two  wondered  at  him  he  poured 
forth  the  history  of  Gundred  and  the  Count. 

Then  a  great  wrath  fell  upon  Goyault. 

"  Gundred  ?  the  woman  always  loved  him  ! — 
come,  Sieur,  you  and  I  will  end  this  masque,  this 
midsummer  madness  ere  it  go  further!  " 

"  Stay,  Goyault,  you  having  seized  the  prize  for 
lack  of  which  he  must  have  died,  now  forsooth 
would  call  us  traitors!  " 

"But  Lady  Gundred — you  well  know  how  deeply 
he  misliked  her !  " 

"And  Lady  Algitha  —  you  well  know  how 
strangely  he  was  set  on  her !  Yet  you  were  not 
loath  to  sacrifice  your  loyalty  to  your  love,  Seigneur 
of  Saint  Ouen.  And  what  did  Gundred  more,  ex- 
cepting that  she  had  excuse,  and  you  had  none." 

Algitha  turned  blue  vivid  eyes  on  Tonstain. 

"  My  lord  had  his  excuse,  Sieur — I  loved  him  !  " 

"Lady,  he  was  rarely  blest  in  that.  But  a  far 
poorer  reason  had  been  good  enough  for  one  who 
only  looked  to  please  himself,"  he  added  coldly. 

Goyault  stood  mute.  Shame  and  misery  were 
doubly  heaped  upon  him,  for  he  must  see  his  lord 
and  friend  duped  and  fooled  by  such  as  Tonstain, 


THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA.         183 

the  while  he,  by  his  own  act,  had  left  himself  with- 
out the  right  to  raise  one  word  in  protest. 

"  Had  I  been  here,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  but 
Tonstain  caught  the  wish. 

"  Had  you  been  here  we  might  have  lacked  occa- 
sion for  the  trick.  Now  carry  out  your  part ;  attend 
the  marriage  with  your  lady.  For  aught  else  it  is 
too  late." 

"And  I,  if  there  be  another  Algitha,  what — who 
am  I  ?  "  Algitha  asked  disdainfully. 

"  The  lovely  chatelaine  of  Gros-Nez.  Believe 
me,  you  will  look  as  fair  in  all  men's  eyes  by  any 
name,"  Tonstain  answered,  but  with  a  tinge  of 
something  in  the  courtesy  which  left  Goyault  ill 
pleased. 

"Preparation  has  been  made  to  carry  my  lord 
this  day  to  Gouray,"  added  Tonstain.  "  We  start 
within  the  hour.  To-morrow  is  for  the  marriage." 

A  sudden  burst  of  a  man's  laughter,  loud  and 
high,  re-echoed  through  the  Castle.  Goyault 
laughed  and  laughed  again,  and  knew  not  why  he 
laughed. 

In  a  distant  room  where  Gundred  sat  by  Karadac 
the  sound  was  carried  faintly,  and  the  Count  sprang 
up. 

"  Goyault  is  come  !  They  have  told  him  of  our 
marriage  !  Algitha,  hear  him — he  laughs  for  joy, — 
Goyault,  Goyault,  come  hither!" 

But  once  before  had  Goyault  heard  his  lord's 
voice  pitched  to  that  selfsame  key.  He  stood  rigid 


1 84          THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA. 

as  if  to  listen — a  dull  notion  aching  in  his  heart  that 
aforetime  when  he  had  heard  those  joyous  tones, 
he  feared  ;  now  he  feared  and  was  ashamed  ! 

"  Come,"  Tonstain  took  him  by  the  shoulder, 
"  he  should  be  no  laggard  who  dares  all  for  love. 
We  will  hasten  the  Count's  going,  for  the  day  wanes. 
But  now  forth  to  him,  and  beware  of  tripping 
tongues." 

Then  hand  in  hand  Goyault  and  Algitha  moved 
softly  through  the  dim  passages  like  guilty  things, 
and  so  came  upon  the  Count  where  he  stood  all 
ready  by  the  inner  gate  and  many  waited  round 
him. 

"Goyault,  a  thousand  welcomes!  Look,  my 
lords  and  knights,  upon  this  faithful  friend,  who 
saved  and  won  for  me  my  wife  !  Algitha,  my  be- 
loved," he  drew  Gundred  proudly  to  his  side, — 
"  join  me  in  thanking  your  noble  champion  of  the 
lists.  Put  his  hand  in  mine,  sweet  one,  and  tell  the 
world  our  gratitude  !  " 

Gundred,  with  black  brows  drawn  and  set  swarthy 
face,  stood  by  her  lord  undaunted.  She  had  steeled 
herself  for  this,  steeled  herself  to  see  the  slow,  in- 
evitable smile  creep  round  from  lip  to  lip. 

But  Goyault  was  not  prepared.  The  kindly 
greeting  and  the  pity  of  the  scene,  with  Karadac 
for  its  centre,  beat  him  to  the  ground.  And  many 
who  once  envied  him,  rejoiced  to  see  him,  aforetime 
so  high-hearted,  now  stand  out  a  sorry  figure  for 
the  common  herd  to  jeer  at. 


THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA.         185 

Meantime  Tonstain  had  brought  Algitha  to  the 
Count.  Her  lips  were  white  and  stern  and  her  eyes 
blazed  dark,  for  she  was  outraged  in  the  person  of 
the  man  she  loved. 

She  cast  a  furious  glance  on  Gundred,  then  her 
face  slowly  took  on  a  cold  compassion.  She  read 
the  tragedy  of  the  other  woman's  life  and  pitied 
her.  The  offence  of  pity  Gundred  might  have  for- 
given her  some  day,  but  when  Karadac,  with  grave 
kindness,  would  have  kissed  her  hand,  Algitha 
raised  her  eyes  to  the  Count's  marred  face.  This 
was  the  man  who  would  fain  have  been  her  husband, 
for  whose  sake  reproach  had  fallen  on  Goyault ! 
Even  now  he  dreamed  that  he  possessed  her.  Re- 
vulsion against  him  and  his  love  and  strong  con- 
tempt surged  up  into  her  face.  That  also  Gun- 
dred saw,  and  never  in  all  the  years  of  life  to  come 
forgave. 

Soon  the  long  procession  wound  away  across  the 
heath,  and  last  rode  Karadac  and  Gundred  side  by 
side.  Of  all  that  throng  the  Count  alone  carried  a 
light  heart. 

Goyault  watched  them  go,  oppressed  with  many 
thoughts.  The  long  cavalcade  curved  across  the 
open  ground  and  sank  into  the  fringing  woods. 
Then  Algitha,  pressing  to  his  side,  spoke  out  im- 
petuously. 

"  Is  that  your  Count — with  his  stern  lip  and  most 
imperious  brow  ?  I  to  be  his  wife — I  to  wed  that 
blind  fierce  eagle,  whose  very  lack  of  sight  strikes  a 


1 86          THE  COMING  OF  ALGITHA. 

cold  horror  through  me  !  Goyault,  how  could  you 
think  it — think  to  mate  me  with  your  Count?  " 

But  Goyault  was  past  the  utterance  of  many 
words.  Heaviness  lay  on  him. 

"  Alas,  Algitha,  that  you  should  so  misjudge 
him ! " 

But  Algitha's  proud  blood  was  hot  within  her. 

"  This  Karadac  works  like  a  poison  in  you  all ! 
But  most  in  you,  Goyault.  At  sight  of  him,  you 
are  no  more  Goyault,  but  one  who  is  ashamed  of 
love !  And  see  this  whole  land  playing  a  crazy 
masque  because,  forsooth,  Karadac  craves  an 
Algitha — a  puppet  of  his  sick  dreams  !  Shame  on 
you  all ! " 

But  Goyault  said  no  more,  only  gazed  after  those 
two  who  rode  last,  and  rode  together,  Karadac  and 
Gundred,  with  that  wild  story  woven  in  their  lives, 
until  at  length  the  wise  old  forests  closed  upon 
them. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   MARRIAGE  FEAST. 

IN  the  long  hall  the  marriage  feast  was  set. 
Above,  the  low  vaulted  roof  held  dimness  in  its 
breast,  a  brooding  cloud  above  the  ruddy  torch- 
light. Karadac  and  his  bride  sat  high  enthroned 
upon  a  dais,  and  about  them  a  great  flare  of  torches 
multiplied,  for  so  the  Count  had  given  command, 
being  fain  that  all  men  should  behold  the  loveliness, 
the  ineffable  loveliness — which  filled  his  fancy — of 
his  bride.  Yet  even  there,  between  the  leaping 
tongues  of  flame,  the  shadows  from  the  roof  slid 
down  the  walls  and  snatched  away  an  instant's 
light. 

Drogo  de  Barantin  stood  apart  and  watched  the 
scene  with  rheumy  eyes  that  held  the  salt  of  tears. 
The  bride, — his  child,  his  Gundred — throned  beside 
her  lord,  and  he  himself,  her  father,  by  some  crafty 
bedevilment  sworn  to  silence  and  cut  off  from  all 
the  honours  due  to  him.  Gundred  wedded  to  the 
Count  of  Gersay — his  wish  fulfilled  at  last,  but 
surely  it  was  turned  to  ashes  in  his  mouth  !  Gun- 
dred, always  heretofore  a  loving  daughter  and  sub- 
missive, had  bidden  him  depart  to  Rozel,  for,  said 


1 88  THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST. 

she,  words  are  dangerous.  Yet,  when  had  he, 
Drogo  de  Barantin,  spoken  any  but  wise  words? 

Like  some  old  pantaloon,  bewitched  to  dumbness, 
he  hung  the  long  day  through  upon  the  fringes  of 
the  marriage  tragedy.  His  touch  would  linger  on 
the  sleeve  of  some  more  lucky  guest,  till  men  turned 
with  mocking  eyes  upon  him  and  laughed  one  to 
the  other  as  he  slipped  away,  murmuring  in  his 
beard  reproaches  and  sound  argument  which  his 
oath  to  Gundred  stifled  from  free  speech. 

He  stood  deserted  by  the  great  lower  door 
through  which  scullions  and  cooks  jostled  each 
other,  bearing  huge  dishes  for  the  board.  Few 
torches  lightened  the  smoky  darkness  here,  but  he 
could  see  rough-haired  and  unkempt  heads  of  fisher- 
folk  and  serfs  wagging  in  the  gloom,  and  uncouth 
faces  wide  with  laughter.  In  peevish  longing  he 
looked  up  the  lines  of  guests  to  the  board's  head 
where  Gundred  queened  it  at  her  husband's  side. 

The  suspense  and  shame  of  the  hour,  when  a 
chance  joke  from  some  drunken  guest  might  bring 
down  all  the  frail  building  of  her  happiness,  had 
brought  a  heavy  flush  to  her  cheek,  but,  always 
cold  and  proud,  Gundred  had  gained  in  these  latter 
days  a  new  majesty  of  mien,  a  royalty  of  sadness. 
And  dark  Karadac  the  imperious  was  not  himself, 
he  was  another;  gay,  lighthearted,  his  sombrous 
moods  thrown  off,  but — Drogo  shook  his  head — 
'twas  because  the  venom  of  his  fever  lingered  yet  in 
him,  left  him  clinging  to  false  visions  in  a  world 


THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST.  189 

turned  upside  down.  Algitha,  Algitha  ! — hear  him 
speaking  now,  calling  her  Algitha  whose  hand  he 
held  !  Algitha,  whom  all  the  world  knew  these  past 
thirty  years  to  be  Gundred,  his  daughter,  the  Sieur 
of  Rozel's  daughter  and  heiress  of  broad  lands,  no 
beggar  Saxon  maid. 

"  Drogo  de  Barantin,  what  do  you  here?  "  a  cold 
voice  in  his  ear,  and  Drogo  shook  like  a  leaf  in  a 
stormy  wind. 

A  tall  cowled  form  stood  by  him. 

"  And  who  hath  a  better  right  than  I  to  witness 
these  my  daughter's  bridals  ? "  asked  Barantin 
tremulously. 

"  None,  if  you  held  your  due  place  thereat." 

Drogo  called  up  his  old  assurance. 

"  Why,  so  I  said,  good  father,  but  they  would 
not  listen.  Here  am  I  cast  out  from  board  and 
feasting,  forbidden  high  lodgment  by  the  bride — 
which  is  in  truth  my  due — and  sworn  to  keep  my- 
self in  cornered  silence." 

"  And  you  have  obeyed  ! — you  also  lend  yourself 
to  your  lord's  deception  ?  No  further  quibbles,  I 
pray  of  you  !  It  is  enough  that  Karadac  is  mortally 
deceived." 

Drogo  de  Barantin  peered  up  beneath  the  coarse 
hood. 

"  Karadac  is  mad  !  "  he  whispered.  "  Are  you 
not  Ulake,  the  hermit  of  the  rock  ?  Then,  good 
Ulake,  take  it  upon  the  word  of  one  who  is  duke 
William's  trusted  servant  that  Karadac  is  mad  !  " 


190  THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST. 

"  No,  you  do  dupe  me  !  Karadac  has  been  de- 
ceived— how  I  know  not,  by  the  craft  of  Tonstain — 
why  I  know  not  ! " 

"  Deceived  ?— but  Gundred  loves  him— loves  the 
Count  beyond  the  force  of  words  !  She  would  die 
for  him,"  urged  the  little  shaking  man. 

"  Aye,  loves  him.  That  tells  the  story  in  itself. 
By  fraud  she  has  secured  him.  Let  me  pass.  Here 
before  the  world  at  this  great  feast  I  will  unstop 
his  ears,  even  though  his  eyes  be  sealed !  " 

But  Drogo  clung  to  him. 

"  Ulake,  good  Ulake,  be  not  rash.  I  myself,  if  I 
could  talk  with  him  but  one  little  hour,  would  show 
him  all  the  reasonableness  of  this  marriage.  I  would 
point  out  that  the  Algitha  he  dreams  of  is  but  a 
Saxon  witch  ;  I  would  point  out,  since  Heaven  had 
blinded  him,  what  concern  has  he  further  with  hair 
that  golden  is  or  black,  all  colours  being  the  same 
to  his  lost  eyes.  See  you  not  my  argument? 
Karadac  is  hotblooded,  and  has  been  wrongfully 
wrath  with  me  ere  now,  but  this  is  so  plain  a  truth 
it  cannot  fail  to  reach  him.  The  fever  overturned 
his  brain,  Ulake,  but  sound  counsel  such  as  mine 
will  work  the  cure." 

A  deep  voice  that  silenced  the  clamour  rang 
down  along  the  hall.  Karadac  stood  upon  his  feet 
and  called  upon  his  lieges. 

"  Have  you  not  heard,  good  friends,  the  Romance 
of  the  Picture?  How  I  first  gazed  upon  my  lady's 
face — not  as  you  do  look  upon  it  now  in  its  native 


THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST.  191 

snow  and  rose  but  on  her  fair  presentment  in 
which  some  wonder-handed  man  had  painted  all  her 
golden  beauty.  Would  you  not  look  on  both,  and 
see  how  far  my  bride  transcends  her  mirrored  love- 
liness ? — Goyault  !  Sieur  Goyault,  you  who  won  my 
lady  Algitha  from  death — " 

A  hoarse  drunken  laugh  rose  to  the  smoke-hung 
rafters.  Goyault  lifted  his  face  from  shelter  of  his 
hand,  and  scowled  upon  the  roysterers. 

"Aye,  Goyault  won  Algitha!"  shouted  a  bold 
voice. 

Karadac  smiled.  The  wine  was  high  in  every 
man — what  wonder  if  the  sight  of  Algitha  in  her 
sweet  beauty  fired  some  wild  brain  to  folly  ? 

"  Go,  Goyault,  and  bring  here  the  picture  from 
the  chapel." 

"  Bid  him  fetch  Algitha  ! "  again  shouted  the 
wild  voice.  And  amongst  the  maddened  crew  the 
suggestion  grew  in  favour,  as  some  lewd  jest  to  be 
played  off  in  laughter. 

Goyault  rose  and  slowly  left  the  hall.  Now  in- 
deed he  had  time  to  be  thankful  that  Algitha,  the 
true  Algitha,  moved  by  more  than  some  wind  of 
woman's  humour,  had  jealously  refused  to  ride  from 
Gros-Nez  for  the  bridal  feast.  Trouble  was  in  the 
air. 

Meantime  Karadac  whispered  of  love  and  a  whole 
world's  admiration  in  the  dull  ear  of  Gundred,  while 
Tonstain,  standing  upright  at  the  board  with  frown- 
ing brows,  sent  a  sharp  mandate  from  ear  to  ear 


192  THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST. 

that  the  ill  was  now  done,  and  if  lord  Karadac 
should  to-night  learn  his  betrayal,  whose  head 
should  stand  to-morrow  on  its  shoulders  ?  Had 
they  not  all  stood  by  in  silence  as  he  pledged  his 
troth  ?  Would  Karadac  forgive  ?  Nay,  in  hot 
blood  his  sword,  for  all  his  blindness,  would  find 
more  hearts  than  one.  Let  them  beware ! 

The  warning  sobered  for  the  moment  those  who 
heard.  But  Gundred,  looking  on  the  wine-flushed 
faces,  knew  her  time  was  short.  To-night  within  the 
hour,  if  all  went  well,  she  would  ride  forth  with  her 
lord  to  some  hidden  haunt  among  the  hills,  where  it 
was  his  will  that  their  first  days  of  love  should  pass, 
a  spot  unknown  and  solitary  ;  and  they  two  alone, 
living  as  simply  as  the  serfs,  find  love's  fulfilment  in 
each  other.  If  she  could  compass  this  before  the 
charm  of  his  blindness  was  broken  for  Karadac, 
then  she  could  count  on  a  space  of  happiness  for 
both.  A  little  time  to  show  him  that  her  soul  held 
all  he  lacked  of  love ;  a  little  time  to  taste  life's 
sweetness  ;  a  fleeting  hour  it  must  be,  yet,  once  en- 
joyed, her  own. 

Perhaps  a  deep  hope  lived  in  her  unaware  that 
she  could  fix  his  love  immutably,  and  naught  ever- 
more prevail  against  her.  But  Goyault's  words 
echoed  through  her  thought,  the  words  uttered  in 
the  chapel  when  first  the  fatal  picture  came  among 
them  to  breed  woe  :  "  It  is  the  whole  we  love,  the 
whole  most  blessed  embodiment  and  soul.  The 
one  sweet  element  supports  another,  each  adds  to 


THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST.  193 

each  and  they  are  indivisible."  Aye,  and  Karadac 
dwelt  on  Algitha's  lips  and  eyes ;  what  had  she  to 
counterweight  that  golden  beauty? 

Was  man's  love  this— even  Karadac's  ?  Into  the 
void  of  his  blind  world  had  arisen  this  glorious  sun 
of  Algitha.  He  was  held  in  the  grip  of  fancy  and 
of  dreams,  of  long  imaginings  and  sweet  silences  ; 
but  interwoven  all  with  visions  of  blue  eyes  that 
shone,  red  lips  and  snowy  tints ;  and  when  he 
learned  at  length  that  his  Algitha  was  no  Algitha, 
could  the  torn  fabric  of  those  dreams  ever  be  made 
whole  again  ? 

The  dark  knights  and  seigneurs  of  the  land  were 
drawing  up  towards  the  dais,  and  behind  them  she 
could  see  hard  faces  of  the  men-at-arms,  backed  by 
staring,  wild-eyed  peasants.  A  hush  hung  over  all, 
half  expectation  and  half  strain.  She  scanned  the 
crowd.  Cruel,  insensate  fools,  playing  their  wild 
game  with  a  man's  soul,  a  woman's  agony !  Ton- 
stain's  quiet  figure  moved  slowly  through  them 
with  a  word  here  and  there,  as  best  beseemed  each 
case,  but  his  anxious  eye  was  ever  upon  Ulake.  He 
knew  the  tall  figure  and  feared  its  mission  of  dis- 
closure. As  he  drew  near  he  heard  Drogo's  foolish 
iteration  :  "  Karadac  is  mad,  I  tell  you  ;  he  dwells  in 
a  world  that  is  upside  down !  " 

But  the  hermit's  cold  gaze  was  on  Tonstain. 

"  Karadac  is  not  mad,  he  dreams,"  said  Tonstain 
easily.  "  For  all  of  us  is  not  life  a  dream  ? — life  in 
the  dark  is  but  a  dream  within  a  dream." 


194  THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST. 

"  Peace,  Tonstain  !  That  "—he  raised  a  hand 
towards  the  dais — "  is  no  dream.  Karadac's  life  is 
poisoned  at  its  source,  his  heart  is  pricked  by  fraud, 
his  blood  drains  from  him  hour  by  hour,  and  yet  he 
knows  it  not.  Yours  is  the  guilt,  Tonstain,  blood- 
guilt  !  " 

"And  you  would  reveal  all  to  him  ?  " 

"Am  I  not  here?"  rejoined  the  other. 

"  If  the  Count  dreams,  his  visions  are  of  joy,  but 
you,  his  friend,  would  waken  him  to  sorrow.  Be  it 
so."  Tonstain  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  made  as 
if  to  turn  away. 

"  Nay,  but  if  long  indulged  in,  the  dream  will 
grow  too  dear." 

"  A  consummation  much  to  be  prayed  for,  much 
to  be  supplicated  from  kind  Heaven,"  retorted 
Tonstain.  "  What  better  could  befall  ?  " 

Ulake  dwelt  upon  the  answer.  It  bore  a  touch 
of  truth.  Tonstain  grasped  the  moment. 

"  Do  you  desire  his  wellbeing,  Ulake  ?  Then  let 
him  dream,  until  perchance  his  wife's  redemption 
be  born  of  growing  love.  Had  he  wedded  Algitha, 
he  must  have  craved  pardon  for  his  marriage  from 
his  suzerain,  duke  William  of  Normandy,  and 
craved  in  vain.  And  how  think  you  would  the 
Lady  Matilda,  a  cold  devotee,  receive  one  who  has 
been  called  a  Saxon  witch  ?  With  honour  at  her 
Court  ?  You  know  that  could  not  be.  We  did  ill, 
it  may  be,  but  good  has  come  of  it.  Karadac 
dreamed  of  Algitha  through  his  long  sickness,  and 
we  but  gave  a  substance  to  his  dream." 


THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST.  195 

"  A  false  substance." 

"  True,  we  could  do  no  more,  since  the  Count's 
friend  Goyault  had  taken  the  true  Algitha  to  wife. — 
Ulake,  let  be !  You  are  no  heady  priest  who,  right 
or  wrong,  pushes  forth  a  creed  though  it  should  set 
a  world  on  fire." 

"Oh,  serpent-tongued— how  fair  the  guise  you 
put  upon  illdoing !  Well,  I  will  wait.  See,  'tis 
there  your  danger  lies." 

Goyault  passed  up  the  hall,  holding  the  picture 
to  his  breast  so  that  none  could  look  upon  it,  and 
the  feasters  crowded  round  him. 

"  It  is  Goyault.  They  press  upon  him,"  whis- 
pered Gundred. 

Karadac  stood  upright. 

"  Rise,  dear  heart ;  "  then  called  aloud  :  "  My 
lords  and  vassals,  we  will  have  the  picture  set  here 
beside  my  lady's  self,  and  you,  good  friends,  shall 
judge  how  great  the  painter's  art,  and  yet  how  far 
below  this  matchless  pattern." 

The  man  was,  for  the  moment,  all  compact  of 
happy  pride — his  old  sad  self  forgotten.  A  derisive 
cheer  went  up  from  husky  throats.  And  Goyault, 
moving  slowly  and  more  reluctantly,  pushed  the 
picture  with  a  maladroitness  strange  to  one  so  deft 
askew  upon  the  dais,  so  that  those  who  looked  saw 
nothing  but  a  blur. 

"  Show  us  the  lady's  face,  Goyault !  "  a  single 
voice  followed  with  malicious  echo. 

Karadac  spoke  in  low,  angry  tones. 


196  THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST. 

"  What  hast  thou  done,  Goyault  ?  Will  you  flout 
my  lady  and  cheat  my  guests  of  this  great  honour 
I  have  designed  them?  Where  is  the  picture? 
Here,  lay  my  hands  upon  it,  Algitha,"  and  so,  grop- 
ing from  his  place,  he  raised  the  picture  to  the 
board,  and  his  scarred  face  burned  radiant  as  the 
beholders  raised  shout  upon  shout. 

For  a  space  men  thought  of  nothing  but  the  pic- 
ture ;  the  wistful,  girlish  grace  and  tender  charm 
went  home  to  each  man's  heart ;  while  Goyault,  sick 
in  mind,  slipped  aside  and  would  not  look  on  that 
he  feared  was  now  to  be  his  own  and  his  great  lord's 
undoing.  Yet  whom  to  blame  ?  Not  Algitha,  lov- 
ing, faithful,  injured  Algitha  ! 

Beside  the  presentment  of  her  young  and  fair  rival 
Gundred  stood  rigid,  clothed  in  her  strange  majesty, 
not  fearing  comment  or  comparison,  regal,  impas- 
sive. 

And  in  that  heated  moment  her  cold  pride  seemed 
to  those  who  looked  as  though  she  scorned  her 
rival,  and  bad  blood  rose  in  vacant,  fevered  brains. 
It  was  a  concrete  struggle  for  pre-eminence,  woman 
against  woman — the  fair,  pleading  pictured  maid 
set  in  rivalry  against  the  dark  lady,  repellent  in  her 
silent  pride.  Beauty  defeated  ?  What  man  could 
let  the  victory  go  without  a  word,  an  effort  ? 

Howls  of  derision  and  dislike  and  wild  tumbled 
sentences,  one  breaking  in  upon  another,  filled  the 
hall  with  tumult. 

"  Heaven  open  thine  eyes,  good  lord  !  " 


THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST.  197 

But  Tonstain  was  by  Karadac,  and  with  a  word 
of  Algitha  in  his  ear,  of  defending  her  from  sight 
and  sound  of  these  rude  flatterers,  drew  him  forth 
through  a  little  door  covered  with  arras,  that  led 
upwards  to  the  women's  room. 

Gundred  stood  still,  one  hand  upon  the  picture, 
which  she  held  upright  beside  her  still,  challenging 
the  world.  Her  dark,  undaunted  eyes  met  the  on- 
rush of  the  maddened  crowd  with  the  same  steady 
scorn.  Death,  if  it  came  thus  at  such  a  moment, 
had  few  terrors  for  her  soul. 

But,  before  the  wild  rush  reached  her,  Ulake 
gained  her  side  ;  his  hood  thrown  back,  his  aspect 
cowed  the  foremost  few. 

"  Back,  traitors,  this  lady  is  the  Count's  bride. 
Lord  Karadac  has  taken  to  wife  one  of  your  blood, 
a  lady  of  the  land,  no  stranger.  Back,  and  salute 
her  who  shall  rule  you  all !  " 

The  resonant  call  held  the  crowd  hangfooted. 

"  Good  father,  the  Count  hath  been  deceived. 
He  has  not  learned  that  the  picture  is  one,  his  wed- 
ded bride  another,"  a  voice  came  from  the  lower 
hall. 

"  That  lies  between  your  lord  and  Heaven — if  it 
be  so,"  said  Ulake  with  command.  "  Has  Karadac 
ever  suffered  meddling  with  his  doings?  Is  he  not 
still  imperious?  Come,  choose  one  of  your  num- 
ber who  shall  go  and  tell  him  that  he  is  deceived." 

In  the  hush  some  shuffled,  but  none  detached 
themselves  from  the  huddled  group  of  poorer  folk, 


198  THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST. 

and  the  lords  showed  a  new  disdain  and  held  apart, 
but  there  came  no  answer,  only  the  people  returned 
to  seek  their  places  at  the  board. 

Gundred  laid  the  picture  on  its  face,  raising  to 
Ulake  eyes  of  woe,  and  ever  after  in  his  prayers  the 
hermit  prayed  for  her  as  for  a  lost  soul. 

The  trampling  of  the  hoofs  had  died  away,  and 
naught  remained  to  sight  but  the  flickering  trail  of 
torchlight  which  one  bore  before  Karadac  and  his 
bride  into  the  wooded  solitudes  across  the  hills. 

"  Well,  we  have  gained  time  to  breathe,"  said 
Tonstain,  "time  to  prepare  ourselves  for  the  last 
moment,  should  Karadac  prove  cruel  in  the  ven- 
geance which  must  come." 

Ulake  replied  at  odds  and  broodingly. 

"  She  is  a  noble  lady." 

"Aye,  his  very  mate  now  he  is  blind,"  laughed 
the  other. 

"  A  noble  soul,  already  full  of  penitence,  but  with 
an  unquenched  fire  of  pride." 

"  I  could  have  loved  her,  I  myself,  had  she  been 
comely,"  uttered  Tonstain,  and  Ulake  looked  upon 
him  keenly  till  he  laughed  again.  "  Nay,  Ulake, 
she  would  have  none  of  me,  for  she  has  always 
loved  my  lord." 

"And  he?" 

"  Oh,  you  have  heard  of  it — how  he  fled  from 
her !  And  yet  with  her  high  thoughts  and  her 
dumb  pride  she  is  his  very  mate,  as  I  have  said." 

Ulake  pondered  still.     He   bethought  him  of  a 


THE  MARRIAGE  FEAST.  199 

moonlit  night  and  one  who  lay  upon  a  rock  and 
cried  out  haughtily :  "  I  had  not  missed  her  so. 
My  heart  must  have  warned  me,  '  Karadac,  look  up, 
thy  beloved  is  nigh.' '  And  now  it  seemed  as 
though,  but  for  God's  dire  punishment,  Love, 
truest  and  dearest  Love  had  passed  by  Karadac  be- 
cause it  wore  no  guise  of  earthly  beauty. 

"  Is  it  beauty  that  we  love  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  half- 
whisper. 

"  Heaven  made  us  so,  we  love  but  through  the 
eye  :  what  would  you  ?  I  have  a  rare  jesting  story 
of  one  who  was  blind,  and  a  woman  who  was  ugly. 
But  men  in  that  country  praised  her  fairness  to 
that  blind  man's  ear  till  he  was  consumed  with  hot 
desire.  She  was  a  maiden  with  none  to  help  her. 
So  he  ruined  her  in  truth,  believing  in  her  beauty. 
Her  homeliness  had  been  her  safeguard,  but  it  had 
failed.  And  all  the  world  made  jests  upon  her  sor- 
row and  appraised  each  other's  wit.  See  you,  her- 
mit ?  A  twisted  place,  Christ's  world  !  " 

Then  Ulake  passed  out  from  the  mocking  echoes 
of  Tonstain's  words,  and  so  along  the  marshy  shores 
towards  his  home. 

"Alas,  Karadac!  But  I  will  stay  my  hand. 
God  on  high  avenges  or  withholds." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AFTER. 

AUTUMN  in  a  sunny  mood  was  lingering  on  the 
uplands.  No  wild  winds  yet  shook  down  the  dy- 
ing leaves,  but  death  came  to  them  gently  on  a 
sighing  breeze  and  drew  them  down  to  rest  in 
thickets  still  breathing  warm  of  summer,  or  on 
sweet  sward  where  their  last  languors  might  swoon 
away  in  sunshine. 

Remote,  withdrawn  among  the  hollows  of  the 
haunted  hills,  Karadac  aforetime  had  built  himself 
a  shelter  for  his  lonely  hours.  To  this  rough  hut 
of  logs  Gundred  journeyed  with  her  lord. 

There  time  stole  passionately  past.  Each  day 
but  gave  them  new-born  bliss  of  love  and  that  keen 
savouring  of  their  happiness  which  follows  on  long 
hunger.  Solitude  and  full  communion  heart  to 

O 

heart — life's  richest  moments  thick  inlaid  upon  the 
hours. 

Karadac  for  the  first  time  since  his  childhood 
lived  without  reservation  in  the  present.  He  had 
escaped  from  the  clouded  weariness  of  life  and 
basked  in  full  noonday.  As  Love's  greatness  grew 
upon  him,  it  expelled  the  lesser  rabble  of  smaller 
doubts  and  fears  ;  his  world  appealed  to  him  only 


AFTER.  201 

as  it  reflected  Algitha.  He  forgot  to  dwell  in  his 
old  manner  upon  the  whither  and  the  whence.  His 
delusion  gave  him  this  one  good  thing  at  least, — a 
term  of  full-fraught  happiness. 

How  dear  she  grew !  New  links  were  forged 
which  day  by  day  bound  him  more  closely  to  her. 
There  was  no  mood  she  could  not  meet,  no  thought 
but  she  would  lend  it  wings  to  rise,  no  problem 
that  her  sweet  voice  could  not  lay  at  rest  with  re- 
minders of  their  love,  in  which  her  spirit  found  the 
proof  and  seal  of  immortality. 

Karadac  loved  to  provoke  her  to  assurances  of 
that  dim  future  beyond  the  grave.  One  day,  his 
head  upon  her  knees,  he  spoke. 

"  I  hear  the  fall  of  leaves  upon  the  grass.  For 
them  it  is  the  end.  Other  leaves  will  clothe  the 
tree  in  spring,  but  their  day  has  gone  by  for  ever." 

It  was  the  hour  between  late  afternoon  and  even- 
ing. The  day  was  drawing  to  its  great  roseate 
close.  Level  sunlight  lit  the  open  glade,  and  low 
across  it  swallows  swooped  in  slantwise  flight, 
gathering  for  their  autumn  wandering. 

Gundred  put  out  her  hand  and  caught  a  leaf  that 
balanced  on  a  puff  of  wind  above  her. 

"  Poor  leaf !  Its  day  is  over,  but  it  has  danced 
the  summer  through ; — what  can  any  of  us  hope 
for  more  ?  "  she  answered  gaily. 

"  Your  hand  clasps  mine,  dear  love,  but  if  one 
should  fade  and  flutter  into  death,  what  then  ?  " 

"  The   tree    remains,    though  last   year's    leaves 


202  AFTER. 

have  fallen  from  its  boughs.  Each  new  year  will 
give  it  back  their  colour  and  their  beauty.  Beloved, 
these  earthly  hands  may  be  unclasped  by  death,  but 
love  abides  always,  and  they  must  meet  again, 
changed  as  the  leaves  of  one  year  from  another,  yet 
the  same." 

"  Algitha,  you  are  young,  how  is  it  that  you  have 
dwelt  thus  much  upon  the  life  beyond  ?  Your 
thoughts  are  ripe,  long-pondered." 

"  Once  I  lived  only  in  that  dim  cold  light,"  she 
answered  with  a  sudden  passion ;  "  for  elsewhere 
was  no  hope." 

He  put  his  arms  about  her. 

"  Have  you  known  so  much  of  sorrow,  my  Al- 
githa? How  could  that  be  ?  " 

"  For  lack  of  love  !  "  she  cried  in  a  rage  of  truth. 

"  For  lack  of  love  ? — you  whom  all  men  loved  ?  " 

"  Not  the  love  I  craved  for." 

"  We  had  not  found  each  other  then  :  would  you 
say  that,  Algitha?"  He  drew  her  closer,  waiting 
for  the  answer. 

"Aye,  then  I  had  not  won  your  love,"  she  mur- 
mured tremulously. 

Karadac  spoke  again. 

"  Eternity — eternity  alone,  without  that  which 
we  have  loved !  Unendurable  !  Heaven  is  not  a 
vista  of  happy  throngs,  but  of  two  who  once  more 
look  each  other  in  the  eyes  and  clasp  hands  for 
ever.  The  very  pagans  taught  the  soul  of  man  was 
not  made  to  be  alone  ;  to  each  was  given  its  fellow 


AFTER.  203 

and  completion,  not  always  to  be  met  on  earth  but 
waiting  to  be  found  somewhere  in  the  dim  future." 

"  We  are  Christians  with  a  promised  heaven,  not 
pagans  fed  upon  vague  dreams,"  she  rejoined  ex- 
ultantly. "  And  heaven  means  to  most  of  us  the 
eternal  companionship  of  two." 

"  I  was  wont,"  said  Karadac  musingly,  "  to  harass 
myself  with  thoughts — to  reason  with  myself  that 
among  earth's  many  lands  and  nations  I  could 
scarce  hope  to  find  her  whom  I  sought,  the  one  true 
Love.  I  did  not  know  then,  Algitha  my  golden- 
haired,  that  this  sad  world  was  the  better  for  your 
breathing  loveliness.  I  had  not  heard  your  name. 
By  what  strange  ways  have  we  been  brought  to- 
gether !  Yet  long  ago  on  summer  nights  and  dur- 
ing the  long  days  that  I  have  told  you  of,  passed 
here  alone  among  these  wooded  ways  and  hills,  I 
have  felt  that  you  were  somewhere  in  the  vast  be- 
yond my  vision  if  I  could  but  summon  you. 
Through  moonlight  and  through  twilight  I  have 
stood  beside  the  sea  and  gazed  across  to  the  far 
horizons  and  been  almost  assured  that  my  strong 
desire  had  power  to  draw  you  to  my  side.  On  hot 
and  haunted  afternoons  I  have  lain  in  the  long  grass 
and  peered  up  through  mazes  of  rose  and  drooping 
close-strung  leaves  that  blotted  out  the  distances, 
and  waited  for  your  footfall  to  break  the  quiet  of 
my  woods.  You  came  not  then,  but  Hope,  her 
blue  eyes  lit  like  yours  and  beautiful,  was  with  me 
even  in  those  lonely  times,  vaguely  whispering  to 
me  of  To-morrow." 


204  AFTER. 

"  To-morrow !  "  the  word  repeated  itself  like  a 
fatal  echo  in  Gundred's  ear.  The  shadows  on  the 
opposite  hillside  were  stretching  out  towards  her 
like  grasping  fingers.  She  shivered. 

Karadac  raised  himself,  turning  his  sightless  face 
to  hers. 

"  What  is  it,  beloved  ?  " 

"  'Twas  but  a  passing  thought.  Yet  stay,  Kara- 
dac. There  is  something  I  would  say.  Now  hav- 
ing found  me,  could  aught  change  your  love? — 
Nay,  but  if  I  were  old,  ill-favoured  ?" 

"You  would  still  be  Algitha,  my  soul's  love  !  "  he 
answered  passionately. 

"  But  had  Algitha  lost  the  blue  eyes  and  golden 
hair  you  loved,  and  was  no  more  to  be  desired  save 
for  her  soul's  self  ?  Could  you  love  me  still  ?  " 

"  Sweet  one,"  he  replied ;  "  I  do  not  love  you  for 
this  outward  beauty  only,  though,  being  but  a  man, 
I  dwell  much  on  my  remembrance  of  your  face  and 
form,  and  call  up  upon  my  darkness  your  dear  smile 
and  blush  and  all  the  witcheries  of  your  presence." 

"  Without  them,  you  would  not  love  me  ! "  she 
cried  out,  clenching  her  hand  until  the  nails  bit 
upon  the  flesh.  The  note  of  pain  quivered  to  his 
senses. 

"  Why  ask  me  this  ?  You  are  yourself,  no  other. 
And  were  we  disembodied,  soul  to  soul,  should  I 
not  love  you  as  I  love  you  now?  Answer  me  from 
the  echo  your  own  heart  gives,"  he  ended  tri- 
umphantly. 


AFTER.  205 

"  Nay,  but  had  I  been  otherwise  than  as  I  am — 
if  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair  had  failed  to  move 
you,  to  draw  you  to  my  side,  you  might  have 
passed  me  by  nor  ever  known — "  her  soft  tones 
trembled  into  sobs. 

"  Then  indeed  had  I  been  desolate  ! "  he  cried. 
"  But  I  must  have  loved  you,  for  through  the  pic- 
ture's  eyes  I  read  far-off  your  soul.  Nor  did  your 
glance  belie  you  ;  that  same  sweet  soul  is  with  me 
here  to-day.  He  passed  his  hand  across  her  face 
and  touched  the  tear-wet  lashes.  "  Algitha,  be- 
loved, we  have  found  each  other.  Why  then  weary 
that  fair  head  with  questionings  vain  as  these  ? 
My  own  love  and  dearest  heart,  think  you  that 
Heaven  would  have  let  us  pass  without  some  inner 
sign  and  countersign  whereby  to  know  each  other? 
We  are  created  things — not  ours  the  design  nor 
ours  the  care  for  its  fulfilment."  Then,  manlike, 
sure  of  his  future  and  himself,  he  went  on  :  "  But 
we  have  met,  and  we  do  love,  and  not  death  nor 
time  nor  space  can  sever  us  again  !  " 

He  sank  back  upon  the  scented  grasses  of  the 
hillside.  The  sun,  dropped  almost  to  the  tree-tops 
of  the  ridge  beyond,  gleamed  warm  across  his  sight- 
less face.  It  was  a  time  of  deep  content,  the  first 
in  all  his  fiercely  melancholy  life.  Here  was  the 
best  that  he  ever  yearned  for.  Here  were  days  and 
dusks  which  would  never  die.  Blind  as  he  was,  the 
thrill  and  tension  of  life  stirred  and  swam  in  him  as 
it  never  had  before.  The  noises  of  the  woods,  the 


206  AFTER. 

cool  smells  of  the  dew,  the  storm  rocking  in  the 
branches,  the  fall  of  leaves  upon  his  upturned  face, 
each  woke  a  hundred  thrills  in  him — the  stinging 
fragrance  of  desire's  early  days. 

Gundred,  looking  upon  him,  held  herself  still. 
Action  and  reaction  had  their  due  effect  upon  her. 
A  whirlwind  of  wild  feeling  thrust  her  mind  into  a 
new  attitude.  Spent  and  fretted  with  long  agonies, 
edged  to  a  mad  impatience  by  jealousy  and  over- 
hanging shame,  at  war  with  all  her  former  life,  she 
felt  that  she  must  end  it  all !  It  was  too  much  to 
look  upon  those  closed  blind  eyes  and  know  that  it 
was  Algitha  who  dwelt  behind  them,  that  his 
moods  of  joyousness  were  Algitha's  creation.  She 
herself  had  but  stolen  in  at  unawares  upon  his  love, 
his  passion,  and  his  broken  reticences, — moments 
that  bud  and  die. 

So  she  held  herself  still  and  silent.  She  could 
not  speak,  or  she  must  scream  out  the  hideous 
truth  upon  the  quiet  evening.  Yet  were  it  not  bet- 
ter so  and  thus  to  end  it  all? 

"Algitha,"  Karadac  raised  himself  upon  his 
elbow,  "  that  picture — it  is  like  you  ?  The  herald 
told  us  that  it  was  a  marvellous  similitude,  being 
your  own  sweet  self,  and  lacking  naught  but  the 
witchery  of  flesh  and  blood." 

Gundred  caught  her  breath.  Here  was  the  mo- 
ment come ! 

"  Then  if  I  tell  you  that  I  am  not  so  lovely  as 
the  picture, — that  my  face  is  marred— 


AFTER.  207 

"  What?  "  he  put  out  both  his  hands  and  found 
her — "  what — marred  ?  It  cannot  be  !  Algitha, 
would  you  take  from  me  my  chief est  joy  ?  " 

She  drew  his  face  to  hers,  and,  cheek  to  cheek, 
she  asked  him  : 

"  Would  you  love  me  less  ?  " 

"  It  cannot  be !  Algitha,  why  put  me  to  this 
torment  ? — " 

"  But  if  it  were  true — as  indeed  it  is !  "  the  last 
words  almost  fainted  on  the  air. 

"You  only  try  me!  You  have  never  been  so 
cruel  to  me,  Algitha !  "  he  argued  hotly,  her  ques- 
tion gone  by  unheeded  in  the  sudden  storm. 

"  I  would  not  be  so  cruel,"   she  wailed. 

This  was  the  old  fierce  Karadac  again,  the  man 
whom  she  had  feared  while  she  so  loved  him.  His 
dark  face  was  bent  to  hers  in  the  strained  entreaty 
of  the  blind. 

"  You  torture  me,  Algitha  !  Confess — say  you 
have  lied — lied  against  your  own  fair  beauty  and 
my  love  !  "  Hurt  and  sore  and  furious  in  his  help- 
lessness, his  rigorous  arms  tightened  to  pain  about 
her. 

"  What  matters  it  ? — You  love  me,  be  I  foul  or 
fair !  "  she  said  with  a  strange  laugh. 

"  Say  you  lied  !  Come,  I  will  have  it  !  "  Karadac 
had  but  one  thought  in  that  tense  moment. 

And  Gundred  said  with  weeping  eyes  that  she 
had  lied,  then  laughed  again. 

Karadac,  at  this  fresh  phase  in  Algitha,  was  but 


208  AFTER. 

smitten  anew  with  love,  and  thereafter  followed 
many  days  that  brought  them  their  sweetest,  high- 
est, and  most  influenced  hours.  But  through  the 
long  nights,  Gundred  waked  and  listened  to  the 
voice  of  summer  dying  in  the  sharper  rustle  of 
the  leaves. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

GOYAULT'S  WIFE. 

A  DIM  grey  unreal  morning,  aglimmer  with  a 
false  dawn,  and  Goyault  riding  down  the  swelling 
breasts  of  fair  green  land,  making  towards  his  Cas- 
tle of  Gros-Nez.  Through  half  the  weary  night  he 
had  joined  in  song  and  merriment  at  the  Count's 
wedding  feast.  He  and  Tonstain,  joint  rulers  while 
their  lord  was  absent,  laboured  through  the  hours 
to  allay  the  newborn  discontent  against  the  blind 
Count,  urging  that  the  marriage  would  find  favour 
in  the  sight  of  duke  William,  and  by  reason  of  the 
Lady  Gundred's  broad  domains  upon  the  mainland, 
prosperity  must  stretch  across  the  narrow  strait  of 
sea  to  those  who  dwelt  in  Gersay.  Yet  all  men 
misliked  the  trick,  each  fearing  for  himself  when 
revelation  came.  In  time  past  Karadac  had  dealt 
out  fierce  judgments  which  were  not  forgotten. 
For  though  his  rule  was  merciful  and  just,  when  he 
saw  cause  to  strike,  the  blow  fell  ruthlessly.  And 
all  the  while,  a  late  guest  at  the  board,  Drogo  de 
Barantin  sat  strangely  silent,  but  the  murmurers 
read  encouragement  in  the  weary  monkey  eyes  that 
lit  furtively  on  now  one  and  now 


210  GOYAULT'S  WIFE. 

Outworn  and  sick  with  thinking,  Goyault  drew 
rein  beside  the  little  hut  where  he  had  been  with 
Karadac  on  that  unforgotten  night.  He  recalled 
his  passion  of  pity  and  fidelity  when  he  knelt  and 
placed  his  hands  within  the  Count's,  and  took  the 
oath  to  carry  his  lord's  honour  through  the  lists  at 
Grenezay.  He  turned  fretfully  in  his  saddle ;  he 
had  not  been  faithful  to  the  letter  of  his  oath, 
destiny  being  too  strong  for  him.  Was  ever  man 
so  driven  by  cross-purposes,  so  sorely  tangled  by 
events,  that  when  the  paths  of  love  and  honour  sud- 
denly diverged,  he  needs  must  follow  love's ! 

There  beside  the  ruined  roof  he  lingered  with  his 
drifting  thoughts  until  the  day  mounting  the  sea- 
rim  sent  a  flood  of  morning  radiance  upon  Gros- 
Nez.  Then  Goyault  turned  gladly  and  looked  upon 
the  Castle.  Bleak  Gros-Nez,  sun-kissed  and  wind- 
kissed,  set  in  solitary  pride  upon  the  flowerless 
down,  and  from  its  crags  outlooking  over  waters 
current-shot  and  dangerous  !  His  heart  leaped  up. 
Long  sadness  had  no  home  there.  After  all,  'twas 
done — aye,  and  well  done !  Were  it  to  do  again, 
he  would  not  alter  it.  Algitha  was  his,  and  loved 
him  well.  There  in  his  own  Castle  of  Gros-Nez  she 
awaited  him.  So,  singing,  and  with  all  trouble  cast 
aside,  he  spurred  across  the  bronzing  brackens  to 
the  Castle  gate. 

Goyault  was  gay ;  he  held  his  treasure  safely  for 
the  time,  the  Count  being  still  withdrawn  and 
buried  with  his  dream  in  some  still  woodland. 


GOYAULT'S  WIFE.  211 

Week  by  week  drew  on,  and  the  knight  already 
half  forgot  the  shadow  on  the  future,  but  in  her 
secret  mind  Algitha  held  bitter  remembrance  of 
that  day  when  she  saw  her  husband  stand  shamed 
and  humbled  before  blind  Karadac.  The  more  she 
hid  the  thought,  the  more  its  venom  galled  her. 
The  marriage  ? — No,  no,  no  !  with  passionate  re. 
fusals  she  had  vowed  she  would  not  witness  it. 
And  now  every  day  she  sought  to  win  Goyault 
from  his  lord,  and  hoped  for  happy  chance  to  put 
into  her  hands  good  argument  to  fly  from  shores 
where  her  wounded  mind  foresaw  further  ignomin- 
ious moments  waiting  for  them. 

Now  and  then,  seldom  as  might  be,  Goyault 
would  ride  to  Gouray  and  bring  back  news.  It  had 
not  varied  through  the  slumbrous  autumn.  "  Kar- 
adac still  abides  with  Gundred  in  the  hills." 

But  Algitha  feared  the  changing  season.  Never- 
more, she  vowed,  should  Goyault,  her  knight,  meet 
humiliation  face  to  face.  She  would  put  forth  her 
power  and  persuade  him  on  the  plea  of  some 
woman's  fantasy  to  leave  Gersay  before  the  dark 
hour  dawned  of  Karadac's  awakening.  Through  all 
her  daily  gladness  in  love's  presence  she  searched 
for  a  pretext  to  move  Goyault  to  her  will.  And 
worked  upon  him  secretly,  though  he  knew  it  not, 
to  believe  her  happiness  justified  his  so-called  trea- 
son to  his  lord. 

Thus  in  crisp  October  Goyault,  returning  from 
Mont  Orgueil,  brought  with  him  the  Norman 


212  GOYAULT'S  WIFE. 

Duke's  message  to  his  faithful  vassals  requiring  time 
to  hasten  to  his  court,  since  it  was  his  desire  to  con- 
fer with  each  and  all  upon  a  matter  of  deep  mo- 
ment. 

"You  will  go,  Goyault?"  Algitha  cried,  clinging 
to  the  arm  that  clasped  her  close. 

"  I  scarcely  know,  dear  love,"  he  answered  her,  a 
shade  growing  on  his  brow,  "  if  the  Count  needs  me 
here — " 

"  But  he  cannot  need  you,  he  must  soon  return  to 
rule  his  island  as  heretofore.  Goyault,  you  are  free, 
for  your  high  suzerain  calls  you  to  some  great  em- 
prise." 

Goyault  kissed  her  tenderly  and  looked  down  in- 
to the  loving  eyes  with  something  of  sadness  in  his 
smile. 

"  Some  say,  sweetheart,  that  William  is  bent  up- 
on the  conquest  of  the  Kingdom  of  England." 

"  Then  you  must  ride  with  him  !  " 

"Nay,  Algitha,  your  own  beloved  countrymen 
beneath  a  conqueror's  heel !  It  has  a  sound  of 
woe." 

"  Woe  ? — not  woe,  but  joy,  Goyault,  since  we 
shall  have  a  man  for  king  and  not  a  puling  church- 
man !  My  country  cast  us  out,  my  father  Algar,  an 
old  man,  and  myself,  a  maiden,  although  no  fault 
dwelt  in  us,  save  that,  like  the  English  always,  we 
asked  for  freedom." 

"  5ut  it  was  Norman  enmity  that  exiled  you, 
sweet  wife,"  cried  Goyault  in  surprise. 


GOYAULT'S  WIFE.  213 

"Aye,  and  it  is  Norman  kindness  shall  bear  us 
home  again  !  If  you  would  win  forgiveness  for  my 
father,  you  must  haste  to  William's  standard.  And 
mayhap  some  day  our  own  broad  lands  beside  the 
flowing  river  will  be  yours ! "  She  nestled  her  golden 
head  against  him,  and  looking  up  with  her  blue 
eyes  into  his  face  won  first  a  tender  smile  before 
she  spoke  again.  "  O  Goyault,  I  love  you  well,  but 
I  have  sickened  for  the  gleam  of  the  rich  meadows 
in  our  English  vales,  the  silver  curve  of  the  old  old 
river  beside  the  ancient  turf  where  in  my  girlish 
days  we  met,  you  and  I,  Goyault,  who  were  yet  to 
love  so  dearly." 

Goyault  was  still  a  lover,  and  as  a  lover  answered 
her. 

"  But,  dear  heart,"  he  said  presently,  looking 
across  the  battlements  to  the  sea,  "  it  hurts  to  leave 
these  world-end  crags  and  yon  long  view  to  Grene- 
zay,  where  also  we  have  loved.  And  here  in  my 
own  Gros-Nez  we  have  been  happy  too  ?  Dark 
starless  nights  and  these  old  crags  have  heard  our 
whispering.  And  we  have  been  glad  on  summer 
morns,  when  all  the  sea  was  blown  into  flower  pet- 
als by  contrary  winds, 

"  Let  us  go  with  William  back  to  England." 

"  And  leave  all  this  ? — I  dreamt,  Algitha,  that  you 
had  grown  to  love  this  old  grey  castle." 

"  Will  not  your  name  bring  a  hundred  others  to 
the  standard  of  the  Duke  ?  All  who  knew  Goyault 
of  Gros-Nez  on  distant  battlefields  and  in  the  wars 


214  GOYAULT'S  WIFE. 

against  the  infidel  will  crowd  to  follow  you.  You 
will  go,  beloved  ?  "  she  pressed  him,  smiling. 

Goyault  smiled  too,  but  absently. 

"  I  cannot  go.     What  of  Karadac  and — " 

She  drew  away  out  of  his  arms,  and  leaned  upon 
the  low  grey  wall,  half  turned  from  him. 

"  Algitha,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  implored,  but  he  must 
speak  again  and  yet  again  before  she  deigned  re- 
ply. 

"  Karadac — it  is  always  Karadac  !  I  am  tired  of 
his  name." 

"Aye,  you  knew  him  not  in  former  days." 

Algitha  turned  upon  Goyault  with  a  quick  flash 
of  radiant  eyes. 

"  And  what  is  he  to  us  ?  Has  he  not  his  bride 
with  whom  he  idles  away  the  summer  hours? 
Think  you  he  is  not  content,  or  he  would  return  to 
Mont  Orgueil  ?  The  black  bitter  woman  has  taught 
him  to  love  her  after  all !  It  is  lucky  to  be  blind,  in 
sooth,  for  you  can  make  your  love  of  what  fashion  it 
most  pleases  you  she  should  be  !  " 

"Algitha,  do  you  forget?"  Goyault  forced  him- 
self to  the  words  :  "  I  betrayed  his  trust.  How  set 
he  was  on  his  dream-love  you  know  who  saw  him." 

"  Betray  his  trust  ?  Nay  then,  'twas  I  would 
none  of  him  I  And  you  loved  me  so  little  that  you 
would  have  given  me  to  his  arms — a  pigeon  mated 
with  a  hawk ! — I  do  believe  you  love  me  not, 
Goyault !  " 

"  Not  love  you,  Algitha  ?  " — the  accusation  over- 


GOYAULT'S  WIFE.  215 

whelmed  him,  being  as  he  was  fathoms  deep  in  love. 
"  When  I  forgot  all — my  knightly  word  and  honour 
—for  your  sake  !  Not  love  ?  Did  I  not  foresee  the 
scorn  in  my  old  friends'  eyes  when  I  should  stand 
before  the  Count  and  tell  him.  I  had  but  half  my 
agony  on  that  day  when  he  stood  unsuspecting  in 
my  Castle  gate,  and  I  stood  silent  in  dishonour." 

u  Whatever  you  have  done,  'twas  for  sake  of  love 
and  me  !  "  she  rejoined  with  a  soft  smile.  "And 
think  you  not  at  this  moment  it  was  pardonable?  " 
with  all  her  witchery  she  held  herself  apart  and  let 
his  eyes  adore  her. 

"  Yes,  and  yes  and  yes !  " 

"  Then  for  my  sake  also  delay  not !  Let  us  away 
before  Karadac  becomes  aware  of — of — " 

"  Of  the  wrong  that  I  have  done  him,"  cried 
Goyault.  "  Sweetheart  of  mine,  when  I  look  on 
you  then  most  I  know  the  wrong  he  suffered  !  " 

"  Nay,  but  he  has  done  us  a  wrong !  "  she  an- 
swered hotly,  her  memory  stinging  her  to  fresh  re- 
sentment. "  He  wrung  from  you  an  oath  no  man 
could  keep !  What  claim  had  he  upon  my  love  that 
I  should  share  his  broken  life?  We  should  be  so 
happy,  you  and  I,  dear  love,  and  yet  we  are  not !  " 

The  natural  protest  of  her  youth  for  utter  happi- 
ness startled  Goyault. 

"  Algitha — you,  not  happy  ?— Oh,  my  God  !  " 

"You  are  changed,  Goyault,  since  that  day  you 
looked  again  on  your  dark  Count — you  are  not  the 
Goyault  I  wedded,  lighthearted  always,  and  with  a 


216  GOYAULT'S  WIFE. 

joyous  fire  of  life  running  through  all  your  days. 
Now  you  are  become  a  man  of  long  and  moody  si- 
lences. Only  when  I  cheer  you  can  I  gain  your  old 
glad  smile."  She  clung  about  his  neck.  "Let  us  go 
away,  dear  love !  Why  should  we  dwell  in 
shadow?" 

Goyault  kissed  her  long  tresses  for  reply,  and  she 
knew  that  his  consent  was  nearly  won. 

"  Goyault,  take  me  hence  from  Gersay,  for  I  have 
grown  to  shudder  at  the  Count.  I  fear  his  blind 
closed  eyes — and  yet  am  glad  that  he  is  blind  !  I 
could  not  bear  to  meet  that  black  keen  glance  you 
told  me  of.  He  seems  to  me  like  some  great  eagle 
who  one  day  will  compass  these  strong  towers  with 
his  wings,  and  crush  them  flat  and  hurl  them  head- 
long down  into  the  sea !  " 

And  Goyault,  caressing  her,  felt  a  new  anger  stir 
against  his  lord.  Yes,  they  would  go  to  find  peace 
and  contentment  in  another  land,  free  from  that 
sightless  overmastering  presence. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  THE    CHORD   OF   SELF." 

A  LOW  sunset,  smoky-red  and  ominous,  flared 
across  the  marshes  upon  the  dim  old  pile  of  Mont 
Orgueil,  and  Gundred  watched  it  heavily  as  though 
Fate  stared  upon  her  eye  to  eye.  Yet  within  the 
Castle  all  was  well. 

Through  dripping  woods,  leaf-drifted,  their  sum- 
mer hues  all  blotted  out  in  tears,  Gundred  and 
Karadac  had  ridden  home  to  Gouray.  Their 
horses'  feet  trampled  under  foot  the  broken  glory 
of  the  bracken.  Fierce  gales  had  swept  the  boughs 
half-naked,  and  chill  drops  fell  from  them  to  Gun- 
dred's  cheek,  chill  as  her  own  heart. 

So  the  Count  brought  back  his  wife  to  Mont 
Orgueil. 

Since  then  all  had  gone  strangely  well.  Karadac 
avoided  the  company  of  men  and  dwelt  retired, 
content  indeed,  but  over-conscious  of  his  loss  to 
deal  with  the  world  as  formerly.  Many  sought  him, 
but  between  himself  and  such  curious  comers  he 
put  Gundred  and  Tonstain,  so  that  none  could 
attain  speech  with  him.  And  this  the  people  laid 
to  Gundred's  charge,  and  some  had  met  her  roughly, 
taunting  her,  yet  she  ever  passed  on  in  silence. 


2i8          "THE  CHORD  OF  SELF." 

But  to-day  she  knew  that  trouble  loomed,  for 
Tonstain  had  bidden  her  to  wait  him  in  the 
pleasance. 

Avoiding  the  once  rose-filled  corner  where  she 
had  met  Karadac  on  that  sad  night  and  cursed 
him,  she  sought  the  southern  wall  and  from  thence 
overlooked  the  long  black  morasses  with  their  fiery 
pools,  and  face  to  face  the  furnace-bellied  sun. 

The  wind  flung  out  a  long  dark  tress  from  under- 
neath her  veil,  and  as  it  clung  about  her  throat  she 
thought  how  oft  her  lord  had  kissed  her  hair  with 
rapture,  calling  it  silken  sunlight — Alas !  And 
close  upon  the  thought  came  a  bitter  sigh.  Well, 
she  held  him  still,  in  spite  of  risk  and  smouldering 
ill-intent.  For  two  enchanted  months  Karadac  had 
called  her  wife.  She  had  grown  brave  upon  her 
shortlived  joy,  and  was  prepared  to  battle  for  it 
with  a  desperate  heart.  Tonstain  !  Yes,  she  was 
grateful  to  rely  upon  him,  to  trust  his  crafty  brain 
at  such  a  moment :  surely  he  could  find  means  to 
avert  the  threatened  evil. 

And  he,  coming  softly  over  the  tufted  grasses, 
saw  her  thus,  a  grand  defiance  in  her  quiet  form, 
and  fire  reflected  in  her  eyes. 

She  turned  her  head  and  looked  upon  him,  asking 
her  silent  question.  But  Tonstain  leant  upon  the 
castellated  wall  and  seemed  to  think  awhile.  Acrid 
wood-smoke  rose  upon  the  evening  breeze  from  the 
village  at  the  cliff-foot,  and  upon  the  man's  keen 
pallor  the  sun  shone  red  as  blood. 


"THE  CHORD  OF  SELF."  219 

Gundred  shuddered. 

"Speak,  Tonstain !  Some  new  danger?"  she 
said  briefly. 

Tonstain  wrapped  his  hands  in  his  long  sleeves 
with  a  deliberate  motion. 

"  Danger  or  joy,  I  know  not  which.  You  shall 
decide,"  he  answered. 

"  If  that  be  so,"  she  said,  half  laughing  with  relief, 
"  then  joy  it  shall  be,  for  wherefore  should  I  choose 
sorrow  ?  " 

Tonstain  cast  a  quick  glance  upon  her.  It  was  a 
sweet  lightsomeness  of  mood,  a  new  charm  flowered 
in  the  sun  of  love  that  added  a  gracious  touch  to  her 
cold  dignity.  Truly  Love,  the  wizard,  has  power 
to  transform,  he  thought  idly  ;  while  she,  her  fears 
but  in  part  appeased,  waited  a  reply. 

"  It  is  no  simple  question,"  he  said  presently. 
"  But  since  it  most  concerns  yourself,  I  have  re- 
solved that  you  shall  be  the  arbiter." 

Gundred  drew  her  long  falling  veil  about  her. 

"  What  new  enemy  is  this?  "  she  asked. 

"  No  ememy,  lady.  It  is  Nature  herself  who  has 
given  to  us  one  of  her  own  deep  problems,  leaving 
us  to  answer  it  as  we  will." 

"  Why  keep  me  in  suspense?" 

"  So  far,  lady,  fortune  has  been  upon  our  side. 
But  this  new  peril — for  peril  you  may  call  it — lies 
with  my  lord  Count  Karadac  himself." 

"  But  he  is  well?  The  scar  upon  his  brow  has 
healed,  his  strength  has  come  again  as  in  old  times 
before  his  blindness." 


220  "THE  CHORD  OF  SELF." 

Tonstain  stepped  nearer  to  her,  his  keen  eyes 
level  with  her  own. 

"  All  this  is  true.  Yet  the  glory  of  his  manhood 
is  half  gone.  He  lives  at  disadvantage  with  his 
fellow-men.  Smooth  tones  may  deceive  his  ear 
for  he  cannot  now,  as  heretofore,  compare  look 
with  utterance,  or  pierce,  as  he  was  wont  to  do,  a 
man's  soul  with  his  gaze." 

"What  would  you  have  me  do?  You  think  he 
is  content  no  longer?  " 

"  Aye,  content  with  what  is  his  for  lack  of  more." 

"  Nay,  he  is  happy !  No  morning  breaks  but  he 
would  have  me  know  it." 

"Aye,"  Tonstain  said  musingly.  "Love  goes 
for  much  with  my  lord  Count.  And  herein  perhaps 
lies  the  hardness  of  your  choice,  Lady  Gundred." 

"  Then  give  the  question  words,  lest  I  tear  it 
from  your  throat  ! "  she  cried  out  in  a  sudden 
violence. 

He  shifted  back  his  sleeves,  and  with  one  hand 
clutched  her  by  the  wrist. 

"  Lady,  will  you  give  back  my  lord  his  sight?  " 

"  What ! "  the  colour  ebbed  and  left  her  greyly 
pale.  "  But  no,  it  is  not  possible  !  " 

He  said  no  word,  and  she  still  looked  at  him, 
growing  drawn  with  doubt. 

"  Tonstain,  why  will  you  ever  play  upon  my 
heartstrings — why  try  me  with  surmise  ?  That  " — 
she  could  not  bring  herself  to  name  it — "lies  be- 
yond mortal  power." 


"THE  CHORD  OF  SELF."  221 

"  Not  so.  The  Count's  wound  is  healed,  and  but 
now  I  touched  the  closed  lids,  and — " 

"  He  can  see  ?  " — it  was  a  scream  stifled  in  her 
veil ;  then  flinging  wide  its  folds,  as  if  for  air,  she 
bent  forward  to  search  the  man's  face. 

"  No — nor  ever  will, — should  you  forbid  it,"  he 
answered  slowly. 

A  little  wind  arose  and  piped  its  own  requiem  in  the 
crevices  of  ancient  stone,  then  died  away  in  silence. 

"  See,  lady,"  Tonstain  drew  a  phial  from  his 
breast ;  "  I  have  here  a  wondrous  balsam,  which, 
laid  upon  his  eyes,  will  cleanse  them  free  from  evil 
humours.  His  closed  eyelids,  gaining  power,  will 
open  once  again  and  he  behold  the  sweet  light  of 
the  sun." 

Gundred  leant  upon  the  parapet,  holding  her 
clenched  hands  to  her  breast  as  her  heart  leapt  and 
dropt.  She  tried  to  breathe  but  could  not ;  a  tu- 
mult of  anguish  shook  her  as  she  stood. 

"  Karadac  !  "  she  gasped.  Karadac,  who  was  to 
gain  sight  again  !  For  him  the  glory,  but  for  her  a 
doom. 

"  He  must  never  see  me  !  "  she  said  again. 

It  was  not  what  she  would  have  said,  but  the 
overpowering  thought  sprang  first  upon  her  lips. 
In  forecasting  her  day  of  judgment,  she  had  always 
held  to  one  strong  comfort.  When  her  punish- 
ment, full-armed  and  pitiless,  came  to  crush  her 
down,  it  would  lack  one  supreme  terror.  Karadac 
never  could  behold  her  as  she  was, — the  face  he 


222  "  THE  CHORD  OF  SELF." 

hated  in  earlier  days  would  be  hidden  from  him. 
He  could  not  compare  her  any  more  with  Algitha, 
nor  set  a  fresh  edge  on  his  repulsion  and  his  anger 
at  the  sight.  This  sole  rock  in  the  chaos  of  future 
misery  was  all  she  had  to  cling  to.  And  now  be- 
hold it  gone  ! 

"  Speak  but  one  word,  lady  " — Tonstain  was  at 
her  side  ;  "  what  is  your  will  ?  The  Count  himself 
knows  naught  of  this.  The  good  news  is  yours  to 
do  with  as  you  please.  Bid  me  be  silent." 

She  raised  a  look  of  wild  appeal  upon  him. 

"  I  brought  this  remedy  with  me,"  he  went  on  in 
his  even  tones,  "  from  a  far-distant  land,  and  never- 
more can  find  its  like  again.  Yet  at  your  command 
I  will  fling  it  far  into  the  sea,  and  you  shall  keep 
your  lord  happy  in  his  blindness  till  he  dies." 

The  mad  struggle  in  her  broke  out  in  wild  insen- 
sate words. 

"  You  would  not  dare  to  give  my  lord  his  sight ! 
Remember  all — for  you  have  had  a  hand  and  part 
in  all.  No !  you  would  not  dare  to  open  those 
closed  eyes,  for  that  would  be  your  doom.  Is 
there  any  dungeon  deep  enough  in  Mont  Orgueil  to 
hold  the  vassal  who  so  betrayed  his  liege  ?  "  She 
flung  the  threat  at  him,  exulting  in  his  power. 

"  Where  you  lead,  lady,  I  shall  not  fear  to 
follow." 

She  wrung  her  hands. 

"  You  told  me  at  Gros-Nez  that  he  would  never 
see  aijain." 


"THE  CHORD  OF  SELF"  223 

"And,  as  Heaven  hears  me,  I  swear  to  you  I  so 
believed." 

"  But  now — but  now — " 

"A  happy  chance  has  fallen  which  never  could 
be  looked  for." 

She  knelt  crouching  by  the  battlements,  then 
sprang  upon  her  feet  with  a  strange  cry. 

"  Let  me  not  pray,  sweet  Mother,  let  me  not 
pray  !  Tonstain,  by  my  wild  prayer  I  brought  this 
curse  on  him  I  loved.  I  could  find  it  in  my  black 
heart  to  pray  now  and  fix  it  upon  him  till  he  dies — 
so  I  hold  him  still." 

"  And  this  is  woman's  love  !  "  said  Tonstain  to 
himself. 

Gundred  faced  him  again,  and  he  saw  a  change 
pass  upon  her. 

"  Aye,  now  I  understand  you,  Tonstain  !  You 
will  win  my  lord's  forgiveness  for  the  past  by  this 
new  gift  of  sight.  To-day  will  pay  for  yesterday. 
Ah,  crafty  Tonstain,  you  have  secured  yourself !  " 

He  pursed  his  lips  with  a  thin  rapid  smile,  as  one 
who  scarce  rebuts  a  flattering  accusation. 

"And  I — where  shall  I  go  to  hide  myself?"  she 
wailed. 

"  Lady,  the  die  is  not  cast,  the  last  word  is  not 
said;"  Tonstain's  cold  eyes  pried  at  her:  "the 
issue  lies  still  with  you.  Choose  for  your  lord — 
sight  or  blindness." 

"  He  is  happy  in  his  darkness,"  she  moaned, 
"  but  when  his  eyes  are  opened  to  the  truth — " 


224  "THE  CHORD  OF  SELF." 

"  He  will  scarce  thank  us  from  his  sore  heart." 

A  long  silence  fell.  The  sun  lay  on  the  far  black 
rim  of  the  sea-marshes,  crying  fen-birds  followed 
the  ebbing  tide,  and  Tonstain  waited  curiously. 

"  Why  not  leave  him  to  his  dreams  ?  "  Tonstain 
said  at  last.  "  He  will  merge  all  his  high  gifts  of 
manhood  in  pure  love — your  love,  Lady  Gundred." 

She  felt  the  stab — love  which  would  deny  the 
light  of  Heaven  to  its  beloved  ! 

Tonstain  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  throw  the  phial ; 
his  eye  sought  hers,  waiting  upon  her  order.  She 
stood  fascinated,  frowning,  then  she  sprang  upon 
him. 

"No,  no,  no! — I  love  him!  Give  my  lord 
sight ! " 

Tonstain  yielded,  reluctantly  as  it  seemed. 

"  Think  again,  lady.  If  we  could  keep  him  as 
he  is  for  many  days,  he  would  be  so  won  upon  that 
even  when  knowledge  dawned  he  could  not  choose 
but  love  you.  Already  he  has  forgotten  why  you 
once  displeased  him.  And,  so  blended  is  your 
voice  with  the  fond  image  he  adores  that — give  me 
your  pardon,  lady — unless  with  his  actual  eyes  he 
sees  again,  his  mind  can  nevermore  divorce  the 
two.  So  will  he  forgive." 

It  was  the  tempter's  strongest  reasoning,  and  it 
found  for  one  swift  instant  an  echo  in  her  thought. 
She  saw  as  in  a  dream  the  smoky  trails  of  cloud 
drag  slowly  across  the  half-disc  of  the  sun.  A 
wind  blew  over  from  the  daily-chilling  sea,  and  in 
the  moment  she  gave  herself  for  Karadac. 


"THE  CHORD  OF  SELF."  225 

"Go,  Tonstain,"  she  cried  out,  "  go,  and  delay 
not !  Give  my  lord  his  sight !  He  will  open  his 
eyes  upon  treachery  in  those  he  trusted,  but  he  will 
possess  himself  again  ! — He  will  be  the  Karadac  he 
was,  and  in  the  sense  of  new-found  liberty  and 
power  I  pray  he  may  find  comfort  for  his  sorrow. 
I  go  to-night  to  my  father's  house :  there  he  can 
find  me  ready  to  bear  the  penalty  of  my  guilt 
towards  him." 

Her  sad  dignity  touched  the  man  at  last. 

"Stay,  lady,  the  end  cannot  be  yet.  For  many 
days  my  lord  Count  must  be  blindfolded  to  ensure 
the  due  working  of  the  balsam.  And  lest  it  fail  we 
two  will  keep  his  secret  close.  Karadac,  or  I  know 
him  little,  will  also  himself  desire  to  hold  his 
restoration  secret  until  it  be  assured.  You  must 
be  with  him,  he  will  need  you — " 

"  But  when  the  time  comes  you  will  warn  me  ?  " 
she  pleaded.  "  You  will  let  me  go  before  he  sees 
me!" 

Long  she  stood  there  alone.  Clouds  gathered 
overhead  and  about  the  old  walls  the  desolate  even- 
ing  closed  down  with  winds  from  the  raving  sea. 


BOOK  IV. 
LOVE'S  VICTORY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ALGITHA. 

IT  was  a  November  day  and  sunny  as  a  happy 
memory. 

Throughout  the  Castle  it  was  said  the  Count  ailed, 
but  on  the  word  some  looked  askance  at  Gundred 
and  her  counsellor,  Tonstain,  sieur  de  Grouville. 
For  though  Karadac  had  ever  taken  little  pleasure 
in  common  converse  with  his  kind,  yet  he  had  ful- 
filled the  claims  upon  him  as  judge  and  leader,  over- 
lord and  friend,  moving  amongst  his  lieges,  silent 
often  yet  ever  a  felt  presence. 

But  since  his  marriage  Gundred  and  Tonstain 
stood  between  him  and  his  world.  Scarce  had  his 
people  seen  his  face,  and  only  some  few  had  won 
speech  with  him  in  Mont  Orgueil,  when  lo !  the 
curtain  fell  again,  hiding  him  from  all  saving  those 
two  who  had  deceived  him,  and  worked  on  him 
still,  adding  blindness  of  mind  to  that  which  Heaven 
had  sent  him.  In  a  square  chamber  high  above  the 
pleasance  Karadac  lay  immured,  so  rumour  had  it, 
and  some  would  wander  on  the  mounded  grasses 
mid  the  briers  and  rose-twigs  gazing  upwards,  but 
only  saw  the  narrow  window  dark  with  drapery,  and 
none  could  learn  how  the  Count  fared  within. 


23o  ALGITHA. 

November  wore  away,  the  autumn  storms  passed 
from  the  land,  and  second  summer  reigned,  a  pale 
and  still  reflection  of  the  first,  with  faded  hues  and 
memories  for  hopes.  But  though  the  sun  shone 
and  mild  airs  breathed,  the  Count  remained  hidden 
behind  the  drapery  and  grey  walls.  If  his  seig- 
neurs wished  to  approach  him,  they  were  bidden  to 
await  his  health  or  to  make  known  their  wishes  to 
those  two  who  alone  had  access  to  the  darkened 
chamber.  Thus  suspicion  grew. 

Gundred,  the  questioning  eyes  upon  her,  passed 
to  and  fro  as  though  she  saw  not,  with  an  unviolated 
majesty  of  mien.  She  stood  in  the  County's  name 
before  his  people,  and  would  uphold  him  to  the  last. 
Not  that  she  forgot.  When  Karadac  bade  them 
look  upon  her  loveliness  at  the  marriage-feast,  she 
thought  the  blow  must  kill  the  sense  of  shame  in 
her,  but  alas !  she  found  shame  cannot  die.  So 
shame  by  anguished  transmutation  became  her  re- 
ligion, the  one  feeling  left  her  on  which  she  based 
her  self-respect. 

About  this  time  Goyault  journeyed  to  Gouray, 
his  wife  with  him,  having  intent  to  cross  to  Nor- 
mandy, to  lay  his  sword  at  William's  feet. 

Algitha  was  gay ;  her  fear  had  passed  from  her. 
She  heard  with  secret  joy  that  the  Count  could  not 
receive  her  or  Goyault.  So  would  she  be  spared 
another  stinging  memory.  To-morrow,  only  to- 
morrow— would  the  day  never  dawn  that  was  to 
bear  her  from  the  place  where  she  had  known  bit- 


ALGITHA.  231 

terness  and  a  growing  dread  !  Their  boats  lay  at 
harbour  in  the  horse-shoe  bay  the  sea  had  bitten 
from  the  flank  of  Gouray  cliff. 

The  idle  hours  passed  in  stiff  constraint  where 
Gundred  with  her  women  worked  at  the  broad 
frames  of  tapestry.  And  Algitha  tired,  for  she  was 
restless  with  happiness  and  the  hope  of  leaving 
Gersay.  The  tide  was  up,  and  she  could  hear  the 
play  of  water  on  the  rocks  below  the  Castle,  and 
the  sound  wooed  her.  She  longed  to  go  and  see  the 
boat  with  the  tall  prow  dancing  on  the  gentle  heave, 
the  boat  that  soon  should  carry  her  far  from  these 
hated  scenes. 

"  Lady  Gundred,  I  would  fain  walk  in  the  pleas- 
ance,  for  the  air  is  sweet ;  "  she  spoke  at  last.- 

Gundred  rose.  To  Algitha  she  showed  a  full  ob- 
servance and  cold  ceremony  that  lacked  nothing 
save  only  kindness. 

"  I  will  lead  you  thither.  Or  would  you  mount 
to  the  tower,  lady,  whence  we  can  see  the  coasts  of 
Normandy  ?  " 

But  Algitha  preferred  the  pleasance,  and  there 
the  two  women  walked  together  and  talked  awhile, 
and  Algitha  longed  to  be  alone,  to  think  her  own 
thoughts  and  savour  of  the  coming  freedom.  But 
Gundred  lingered,  and  their  voices  floated  up  to  a 
curtained  window  overhead,  and  reached  the  ear  of 
one  vexed  with  the  slow  passage  of  the  hours,  who 
felt  each  day  ache  as  another  shackle  on  long-loaded 
limbs. 


233  ALGITHA. 

Gundred  believed  her  lord  half-dreamed  through- 
out this  period  of  dark  suspense  and  waiting.  He 
hid  his  thoughts  from  her  because  he  loved  her  so, 
and  would  not  grieve  her  by  a  knowledge  of  the 
fierce  impatience  which  racked  him  in  his  gloom. 
She  would  leave  him  in  the  curtained  canopy  of  his 
bed,  and  little  guessed  how  he  listened  for  her  last 
footfall,  to  rise  and  range  the  walls  like  some 
trapped  beast.  To  and  fro,  and  to  and  fro,  yearn- 
ing with  a  frenzied  love  for  his  first  look  on  that 
fair  face  that  lived  and  burned  within  his  smitten 
eyes. 

He  had  borne  his  darkness  better  when  he  be- 
lieved  that  it  would  last  for  ever.  With  the  earliest 
gleam  of  hope  the  fret  and  jar  of  this  disquietude 
arose.  To  see  her,  his  own  Algitha !  to  join  the 
vision  of  her  beauty  to  all  things  else  he  loved  in 
her — to  watch  the  still  gaze  of  the  picture  thrill  and 
flush  and  move  in  life !  Expectation  maddened 
him. 

He  who  had  been  a  law  unto  himself  was  now 
blown  about  by  every  breeze  of  fancy  and  of  hope. 
He  grasped  at  that  which  was  already  his  with 
eager  hands  and  waited  for  his  dawn  to  come. 
Gundred's  presence  (which  he  deemed  Algitha's) 
but  added  to  his  torment.  Self-control  was  gone, 
he  trembled  lest  in  some  ungoverned  moment  he 
should  tear  the  wrappings  from  his  eyes  and  look 
upon  her,  although  Tonstain  had  given  him  warning 
that  without  due  patience  restoration  might  be 


ALGITHA.  233 

foiled.  Yet  there  were  times,  the  fever  of  his 
thoughts  and  expectation  rising  high  within  him,  he 
could  have  bartered  all  the  future  for  one  look ! 

On  that  same  morning  Tonstain  bade  him  open 
wide  his  eyes  upon  the  shadowed  chamber  walls  and 
see  once  more.  And  Karadac,  with  a  cold  sudden 
hand  of  fear  upon  him,  scarce  dared  to  raise  his 
eyelids,  lest  after  all  the  curse  still  rested  on  them. 
But  Tonstain's  face,  first  dim  upon  the  dark,  grew 
slowly  clearer  to  his  vision.  Oh,  glory  of  lost  sight 
restored  !  A  rush  of  godlike  life  stormed  through 
him — a  new  earth  and  a  new  heaven  were  his ! 

Then  Tonstain  turned  aside  and  smiled  a  little 
cruel  smile,  for  with  that  shout  of  elemental  joy 
mingled  the  one  name — Algitha  ! 

"  Nay,  be  calm,  lord  Count ;  "  Tonstain's  hand 
was  on  him.  "  Two  further  days  of  patience,  that 
is  all.  Have  you  not  waited  many  weeks  and 
months?  Two  days — what  are  they ?" 

"  Hell — hell — hell !  To  know  her  at  my  side  and 
not  behold  her !  " 

"  Two  days — no  more,"  Tonstain  repeated,  add- 
ing to  himself  :  "  And  by  that  time  we  shall  be  rid 
of  Goyault  and  his  witch-wife.  Thus  it  may  be  the 
Count's  eyes,  lacking  the  face  they  crave  for,  may 
rest  content  with  that  which  Fate  accords  them. 
Life  is  a  makeshift  at  the  best." 

So  he  left  Karadac. 

And  the  Count,  still  panting,  palpitating,  lay 
long  as  in  a  trance,  his  bandaged  face  turned  to  the 
wall. 


234  ALGITHA. 

Across  the  lull  of  joy  floated  the  sound  of  wo- 
men's voices,  and  Karadac  seemed  to  wake  as  one 
awakes  upon  a  summer  day  at  the  soft  patter  of 
warm  rain.  He  raised  himself  to  listen,  trembling. 
For  it  was  her  voice  ! 

He  got  upon  his  feet,  blindfold  as  he  was,  and 
grouped  his  way  along  the  wall  towards  the 
shrouded  window,  and  there,  leaning  against  the 
edges  of  the  curtain,  felt  only  that  he  heard. 

First  an  unknown  voice,  sweet  and  clear  as  if 
drawn  from  a  thin  silver  harpstring.  A  little  pause, 
and  then  the  voice  he  loved, — his  Algitha's,  su- 
preme in  this  allurement  as  in  all  others  ! 

Tuned  to  a  deeper  note  than  most,  rich,  heart- 
searching,  with  a  slow  delicate  cadence  in  her  speech 
that  ever  won  upon  him  passionately.  How  often 
had  he  lain  in  their  early  days  of  love,  unheeding  of 
her  words  but  thrilled  to  the  quick  as  now  with  its 
strange  music ! 

Back  and  forth  the  women  walked,  and  each  re- 
current echo  of  his  wife's  voice  struck  an  ascending 
note  in  the  Count's  perfervid  mood. 

Algitha  !  One  look,  just  one  look  upon  that 
breathing  loveliness!  Tumultuous  feeling  raged 
in  him.  He  was  a  man  whom  love  had  shaken 
from  the  long  control  of  years.  See  her? — he 
must  see  her,  if  but  to  gain  for  himself  some  small 
measure  of  calm  for  that  ultimate  moment  when 
they  two  should  gaze  into  each  other's  eyes  for  the 
first  time. 


ALGITHA.  235 

He  pressed  his  brows  against  the  cool  stone  wall. 
He  could  not  be  patient  while  love  called  to  him 
in  that  dear  voice  across  the  bounds  of  sight. 

Again  the  soft  murmur  of  her  tones  rose  faintly 
on  the  air,  and  silence  followed. 

What — had  the  chance  passed  by  him  while  he 
lingered  with  a  foolish  fear?  He  tore  the  band- 
age from  his  eyes  and  pushed  aside  the  curtain. 

A  pale  blur  of  light  suffused  filled  all  his  aching 
vision,  then  darkness,  and  again  a  glowing  light  till 
the  autumn  landscape  lay  outspread  before  him. 
Green  hillsides  crowned  in  trees,  and  a  sky  of  soft- 
ened blue  that  arched  to  meet  them.  Over  all  the 
light  of  heaven  itself.  Oh,  most  blessed  light  of 
heaven ! 

He  saw.  'Twas  life  regained,  for  surely  in  a  day 
when  all  the  pleasures  were  those  of  sight,  of  battle 
and  the  chase  and  smiling  eyes,  blindness  made  a 
living  death.  O  God,  what  it  was  to  grasp  at  his 
full  manhood  once  again  ! 

A  song  climbed  up  to  him  in  the  tower — a  little 
broken  song ;  he  scarcely  heard  it  ere  it  died  away. 
And  he  leaned  forth  to  it  with  a  leaping  heart. 

The  whole  pleasance  below,  rimmed  in  grey 
walls,  was  all  afloat  with  sunshine,  a  gentle  sun- 
shine that  gave  back  to  ragged  rose-briers  and  fad- 
ing grasses  a  kindly  counterfeit  bloom. 

And  then  a  figure  swam  into  his  view  while 
Karadac  caught  at  the  cold  lintels  with  each  hand. 
Again  his  sight  grew  dim,  she  seemed  far  off.  But 


236  ALGITHA. 

as  his  swinging  blood  slowed  by  degrees  she  was 
given  to  his  eyes  for  the  first  time — living  Algitha  ! 

He  could  not  see  her  face,  but  the  long  golden 
hair  which  fell  around  her  and  the  tall  symmetry 
of  her  shape  lived  in  his  memory.  She  stood  be- 
side the  crenelated  wall  and  seemed  to  gaze  idly 
on  the  hillside,  and  all  about  her  that  waving 
wealth  of  gold.  Now  the  wind  would  catch  a  tress 
and  blow  its  edges  into  golden  feathers  against  the 
light,  or  again  a  passing  gust  press  it  like  a  garment 
round  her  slender  form. 

Algitha  was  happy — he  could  read  it  in  her  move- 
ments. And  he  noted  that  she  wore  a  rich  dress 
of  English  broidery  and  gold-work  :  was  it  not  to 
greet  his  eyes  with  ?  A  well  of  promise  was  that 
down-bent  head  with  its  flowing  gold. 

Again  she  sang  a  broken  line  of  song,  a  merry 
song  of  the  season  when  winter  touches  hands  with 
spring.  Tears  rose  painfully  to  the  man's  eyes. 
Algitha  was  glad  because  new  hope  was  come  to 
him. 

And  then  the  radiant  vision  moved,  like  a  child 
in  an  hour  of  aimless  happiness,  about  the  pleas- 
ance.  A  light  veil  such  as  Norman  ladies  were 
wont  to  wear  floated  about  her  and  clouded  her 
fair  face,  but  Karadac  saw  the  jewelled  hands  white 
as  God's  snow — oh,  blest  hands  and  beautiful,  that 
he  had  kissed  and  worshipped  in  his  darkness  ! 

Never  had  Algitha  looked  more  fair  than  on  that 
day,  and  presently,  as  Heaven  would  have  it,  a 


ALGITHA.  237 

wood  pigeon  flew  by  her  with  shrill  wing,  passing 
close,  then  soared  high  above  the  tower  whence  the 
Count  watched.  Algitha  stopped  and  turned  her 
face  to  follow  its  swift  flight.  The  snowy  throat, 
blue  eyes  upraised,  and  flushing  cheeks  pierced  him 
with  their  beauty,  but  above  all  in  that  keen  mo- 
ment he  adored  the  red  lips  parted  in  a  tender 
smile  of  joy. 

Algitha  saw  not  him  but  the  bird  only,  while  he 
murmured  :  "  My  wife  !  O  thou  good  God  !  " 

A  winded  horn  upon  the  hills  broke  up  the  mo- 
ment. Algitha  turned  away  to  look  at  hunters  is- 
suing from  the  wood  upon  the  opposing  ridge. 
Goyault  had  ridden  with  them,  and,  rejoicing  at  his 
return,  she  left  the  pleasance,  for  she  would  meet 
him  on  the  causeway  as  he  climbed. 

"  She  comes  to  me  !  "  The  Count  had  long  for- 
gotten all  save  that  he  must  meet  her,  surprise  her 
as  she  came. 

His  chamber  opened  on  a  winding  stair,  whence 
4  door  led  to  the  causeway.  Here  was  a  flat  corner 
space  with  two  wide  steps  cut  in  the  living  rock. 

Karadac,  withdrawn  into  the  shadow  of  the  door, 
Waited  for  her — his  wife !  Oh,  the  long  dreams, 
and  here  was  now  fulfilment !  Face  to  face  at  last, 
slaking  the  thirst  of  half  a  lifetime  in  those  sunny 
eyes. 

A  light  footstep  and  a  note  of  song.  Karadac 
stepped  back  to  watch  her  as  she  came. 

Slowly  she  stepped  downwards,  now  poised  upon 


238  ALGITHA. 

a  stone,  now  gazing  out  upon  the  spreading  sea. 
Radiant  as  a  vision,  with  blue  eyes  alight  and  the 
wind's  blush  upon  her  face. 

The  Count  waited,  filled  with  wonder  and  a  mad- 
ness of  delight. 

Nearer  she  drew  and  nearer,  all  unconscious  of 
his  eyes.  Nearer  and  more  beautiful  ! 

She  was  come  at  last !  And  he  leaped  out  and 
caught  her  in  his  longing  arms,  and  held  her  close, 
drowned  in  a  sea  of  love. 

"  Algitha,  my  Algitha !  "  his  lips  were  on  her 
hair. 

Holding  her  in  the  hollow  of  one  arm,  he  raised 
her  face. 

Algitha  ? — blanched  white  and  gazing  up  at  him 
with  blue  eyes  wide  in  a  fixed  stare  of  horror,  her 
tense  hands  pressed  against  his  breast  in  wild  re- 
sistance. 

Thus  they  stood  a  full  moment  long. 

And  thus  Gundred  came  upon  them.  Leaning 
against  the  angle  of  the  wall,  her  rich  robes  trailed 
about  her,  she  read  the  consummation  of  her  trag- 
edy, and  theirs. 


CHAPTER  II. 

GUNDRED. 

ALGITHA  broke  from  him  and  fled  down  the 
causeway,  crying  on  Goyault. 

Goyault  ? — the  name  echoed  like  a  madness  in 
the  Count's  ears.  Algitha,  his  wife,  all  warm  white 
and  living  gold,  a  fugitive  from  his  arms  and  calling 
on  Goyault  !  A  thousand  wild  old  tales  of  love 
and  treachery  flooded  upon  him  in  that  instant's 
space. 

"  Hasten,  my  lord  Count,  they  will  escape  for 
France! 

He  knew  not  who  spoke,  but  yet  he  lingered 
stunned. 

And  the  while  Algitha  ran  on  through  the  court- 
yard and  under  the  raised  portcullis  to  the  outer 
gate,  which  at  the  moment  stood  open  for  the 
hunters'  coming. 

First  of  the  horsemen  on  the  slope  of  hill  rode 
Goyault,  spurring  forward  when  he  saw  that  flying 
figure  run  from  the  dark  Castle  mouth  to  meet  him. 
For  this  he  knew  must  be  a  presage  that  the  worst 
was  come. 

"  He  sees,  he  sees  ! "  she  shrieked,  and  caught  at 


240  GUNDRED. 

his  hand  :  "  his  great  black  eyes  are  open,  and  he 
sees  !  " 

"The  Count?" 

"  Aye,  and  there  is  death  within  them  !  Let  us 
fly,  Goyault.  Oh,  take  me  where  nevermore  he  can 
look  upon  me  in  fierce  love  !  " 

"  Christ's  curse  upon  him  !  "  Goyault  was  aflame. 
"  Give  me  your  hand  ! "  and  so  swung  her  on  his 
saddlebow  and  wheeled  his  horse,  scattering  those 
behind  him  as  he  galloped  down  the  slippery  dips 
of  sward,  heading  for  the  bay. 

"  We  will  win  yet  for  France, — the  boats  lie 
ready,"  he  said,  for  Algitha,  shaken  with  a  host  of 
superstitious  fears,  was  sobbing  on  his  breast. 
"  Where  did  he  find  you,  Algitha?  " 

"  He  leapt  out  upon  me  as  I  came  to  meet  you, 
and  caught  me  in  his  arms  and  kissed  me. — 
Hasten,  Goyault,  for  if  we  see  his  face  again,  we 
die!" 

"  Kissed  you  in  his  arms  ?  A  hundred  blasting 
plagues  seize  on  him  !  " 

A  kiss  had  broken  long  years'  friendship  and 
kindled  long  years'  hate  ! 

Trumpets  rang  out  upon  the  battlements,  and  a 
great  shouting.  For  when  the  men-at-arms  loitering 
in  the  courtyard  saw  their  lord  stride  down  amongst 
them  as  of  old,  with  eyes  afire  and  voice  as  ringing 
in  its  stark  commands,  they  burst  forth,  giving 
tongue  like  joyous  hounds.  It  was  naught  to  them 
how  he  had  grasped  his  lost  powers  and  his  leader- 


GUNDRED.  241 

ship  again,  or  broken  from  the  thrall  imposed  by 
Gundred  and  her  crafty  counsellor.  What  of  all 
-such  things,  since  they  had  refound  their  captain  ? 

So  they  shouted,  and  the  shouting  came  even  to 
Goyault  where  his  horse  with  its  double  burden  slid 
and  stumbled  down  the  bents  towards  the  shore. 

Pity  was  all  thrust  out  of  the  young  knight's 
heart,  and  Karadac  appeared  no  more  the  blind 
Count  to  whom  he  owed  a  vast  allegiance,  but  a 
rival  snatching  at  his  heel  to  overthrow  him.  Oh, 
that  he  could  ride  back  and  fling  a  challenge  to  the 
death !  But  Algitha  clung  about  him.  No,  she 
must  be  saved  !  Out  of  his  own  hot  hate  he  judged 
of  Karadac,  and  spurred  on.  At  right  angles  stream- 
ing over  the  rugged  cliffs  below  the  curtain  wall  of 
the  Castle  he  could  see  already  lines  or  men-at-arms 
clambering  down  to  intercept  him  by  the  waterside. 

Goyault  struggled  onwards,  curbing  his  horse  with 
skill,  for  he  saw  by  the  ripples  on  the  bay  that  the 
wind  was  fair,  blowing  from  the  heights  of  Fal- 
douet. 

"  If  we  can  win  the  boat — "  he  muttered,  and 
then  :  "  Cheer  thee,  sweetheart,  we  must  escape !  " 

Now  there  was  in  Karadac's  following  one  Mau- 
ger,  a  short,  bow-legged,  hairy  fighter,  dull  of  heart 
and  brain,  slow  of  all  speech,  but  strong  and  swift 
as  a  forest  wolf.  This  man  led  the  party  by  a  fur- 
long, bellowing  as  he  ran.  The  distance  between 
him  and  the  shore  wa«  but  a  third  of  that  which 
Goyault  had  to  cover,  but  Goyault  so  urged  his 


242  GUNDRED. 

charger,  a  high  and  thorny-tempered  beast,  that 
they  came  upon  the  sands  together. 

"  Back,  hog,  why  should  I  slaughter  you  !  "  cried 
Goyault. 

But  Mauger  slung  out  his  weapon  bellowing  but 
the  louder,  and  surged  on. 

"  Algitha,  clasp  tight  your  arms  about  me,  and 
fear  naught,"  said  Goyault,  and  rode  down  upon 
his  foe,  his  hunter's  spear  in  charge. 

Mauger  waited  for  him,  dropping  on  his  knee, 
and,  as  the  horse  swerved,  lunged  with  an  uncouth 
word.  But  horse  and  rider,  used  to  each  other  on 
many  a  long-fought  field,  leaped  beyond  the  stroke, 
yet  turned  within  a  footspace,  and  while  the  hot 
taunt  lingered  on  Mauger' s  lips  Goyault's  spear 
struck  him  between  the  eyes. 

So  Mauger  died  before  he  fell. 

But  now  Goyault  knew  it  was  too  late  to  win 
the  boats,  for  others  crowding  down  upon  the  beach 
cut  him  off  from  all  escape  by  sea. 

Seeing  this,  he  called  aloud  to  those  of  his  own 
people  who  were  near  at  hand  to  hinder  the  pur- 
suers, and  so  turned  his  rein  along  the  yellow  sands 
of  Grouville. 

The  clash  and  clamour  of  the  fighting  died  be- 
hind them  as  they  rode.  The  south  wind,  wafting 
its  soft  breath  across  their  faces,  and  the  level  lights 
of  evening,  spoke  of  peace,  but  in  the  breast  of 
Goyault  was  fury  and  red  rage.  For  sake  of  safety 
he  must  leave  the  track  beside  the  shore,  but  on 


GUNDRED.  243 

the  one  side  the  broken  forest  ravaged  by  the  sea 
showed  openings  only  where  the  trees  stood  deep 
in  swamp  or  narrow  estuaries  crept  through  treach- 
erous ground  and  under  slanted  trunks  whose  roots 
were  rotting  in  the  brine.  On  the  left  the  distant 
sea,  too  far  for  hope,  beyond  long  miles  of  flats  half 
sand  and  half  morass. 

Goyault  pressed  on,  and  Algitha,  clinging  to  him, 
watched  the  red  pools  and  slimy  beds  of  sea-grass 
sliding  by.  Here  lay  a  great  tree-stem  prone  with 
living  mosses  on  its  tilted  root,  but  its  branches 
dipped  from  sight,  sucked  down  beneath  the  hun- 
gry sand.  And  some  were  overgrown  with  ocean 
weeds  and  some  grey-scabbed  with  limpets.  Gazing 
upon  them  she  bethought  her  half-shudderingly  of 
the  tales  men  told  about  this  mighty  forest  once 
fringing  Gouray's  coasts  and  stretching  to  the 
mainland,  that  in  some  horrible  tempest  of  the  past 
had  sunk  to  meet  the  sea. 

Again  a  shouting  rose,  but  a  bend  of  woodland 
hid  them  for  the  moment  from  all  view,  and 
Goyault,  seeing  a  little  stream  that  wound  away 
into  a  depth  of  tumbled  thicket,  veered  from  the 
track  and  rode  along  its  shallows,  pushing  on  and 
up  to  where  a  rising  cliff  cloaked  with  a  growth  of 
forest  stopped  escape.  What  matter  ?  It  was  pos- 
sible that  they  had  found  a  hiding-place  where  they 
might  lie  until  the  heat  of  Karadac's  pursuit  had 
died  away. 

Strained  heart  to  heart  they  two  listened  as  the 


244  GUNDRED. 

outcry  grew,  then  faded  in  the  distance.  Love 
reigned  between  them  in  that  hour,  the  mutual  love 
that  welcomes  danger  which  only  draws  two  closer 
in  its  bonds.  Algitha's  lips  sought  Goyault's  as 
she  whispered  tremulously : 

"  I  think  he  seeks  to  slay  you,  love  of  mine ! 
Where  shall  we  find  a  refuge  ?  " 

"  Let  me  but  win  into  my  own  Castle  of  Gros- 
Nez  ! — who  shall  touch  you  there? — And  I  will 
send  out  a  swift  boat  to  Jean  of  Jobourg ;  he  will 
defend  my  cause  and  yours  before  the  Duke,"  an- 
swered Goyault.  "  Rest  here  awhile,  we  cannot 
leave  our  shelter  until  night  has  fallen,  but  oh,  dear 
heart,  this  seems  a  sad  forthcoming  of  our  love  ! 
How  may  you  bear  the  hardships  of  a  siege  ? 
Karadac  will  hold  us  strait  within  Gros-Nez  unless 
our  boats  can  succour  us,  but  I  half  misdoubt  they 
all  lie  captive  in  the  bay  of  Gouray,  for  the  Count's 
wrath  is  deadly  swift  and  deadly  sure." 

But  Algitha  comforted  him. 

"  What  matters  it  so  long  as  we  two  are  together, 
Goyault  ?  Be  cheered  :  I  fear  nothing  in  your 
arms.  Do  you  remember  how  we  met  in  Grenezay, 
and  loved,  and  wed,  though  your  black  Count  would 
fain  have  had  it  otherwise  ?  Do  you  remember 
how  you  climbed  up  to  my  window  that  sweet 
night  when  first  we  kissed  ? — Who  can  take  those 
memories  from  us?  Not  even  your  great  Karadac ! 
— Is  he  so  great?  I  would  not  believe  so,  since 
here  is  one  weak  woman  he  could  not  win  to  love 
him !  " 


GUNDRED.  245 

So  Goyault  smiled  through  his  dark  mood,  and 
held  his  arms  about  her  tenderly  and  swore  that 
never  man  before  had  such  a  wife,  brave,  sweet  and 
beautiful,  as  was  his  Algitha. 

So  they  abode  hidden  within  their  forest  cover, 
happy  enough,  God  wot !  and  hopeful,  for  love  can 
colour  all  things  through  the  eyes  which  look  upon 
them,  until  the  early  autumn  darkness  stole  on  and 
found  them  in  their  hiding-place. 

Then  Goyault  lifted  his  wife  upon  his  charger 
and  so  led  him  by  the  bridle,  following  trackless 
ways  towards  the  hills.  There  mounted  and  rode 
on  with  caution  through  the  night.  So  they  passed 
in  safety  until  the  dawn  peaked  yellow-pale  over 
a  hilltop  as  if  to  watch  on  their  escape,  a  sly  false 
dawn,  that  peered  upon  them  and  faded  back  to 
dusk  again.  A  chill  mist  fell  after,  but  Algitha, 
although  the  passing  light  had  shown  her  pallid  as 
the  dawn  itself,  still  wore  her  gayest  humour  and 
feigned  to  be  untired. 

"The  way  is  long,  dear  wife,  and  I  must  make  it 
longer  fetching  a  compass  by  the  south,"  he  said. 

"  So  would  I  have  it,"  she  replied  ;  "  do  we  not 
ride  together?  " 

"  It  is  toward  the  north  that  Karadac  will  set  his 
chiefest  watch  to  intercept  us.  So  will  we  approach 
Gros-Nez  by  way  of  St.  Ouen's,  where  amongst  the 
wild  sandhills  and  the  dunes  men  may  wander  and 
so  lose  themselves,  for  each  is  like  the  other.  Look 
about  us  as  we  climb  the  hollow." 


246  GUNDRED. 

It  was  a  land  of  desolation,  no  trees  and  scarce  a 
bush,  naught  but  the  rounded  peaks  of  small  smooth 
hills,  and  out  of  sight  the  thunder  of  the  surf  on  a 
long  beach  of  sand. 

Still  they  wound  on,  now  in,  now  out,  till  Algitha 
spoke  a  half  question. 

"  Aye,  Algitha,  I  know  them  every  one  almost  as 
well  as  I  know  the  tints  of  rose  and  snow  on  thy 
dear  face,"  he  answered  laughing. 

So  they  reached  a  sheltered  opening  in  the  dunes, 
and  beneath  them  the  great  pool  of  St.  Ouen  stirring 
in  the  dawn  wind,  a  great  wild-eyed  pool,  bushed 
with  coarse  reeds  and  yet  not  smitten  by  the  eastern 
lights. 

As  they  stood  a  moment,  from  the  rough  bent  at 
their  feet  something  moved  towards  them,  crawling 
like  a  beast  upon  the  ground. 

Neither  saw  it  till  a  shaggy  head  rose  up  beside 
the  bridle  rein,  and  Goyault's  quick  hand  was  stayed 
upon  his  spear. 

"Gilles?" 

"  Aye,  seigneur,  I  waited  here,  knowing  the  path 
that  you  would  choose,  for  one  came  to  warn  us  at 
Gros-Nez  four  hours  past.  Come,  let  us  go,  for  it 
is  said  that  the  great  Count  with  all  his  following 
has  started  forth  to  lay  siege  upon  the  Castle." 

Goyault  rode  on  through  the  green  cups  of  the 
downs.  He  longed  to  hear  the  clanging  of  his 
own  gates  fallen  to  behind  him  and  his  wife.  Yet 
he  wondered  how  it  would  feel  to  be  besieged,  for 


GUNDRED.  247 

he  had  always  been  besieger.  A  little  while  he 
would  abide  with  Algitha  on  those  high  battle- 
ments, thereafter  picturing  to  himself  the  night  sally 
and  the  free  sail  set  for  Normandy.  Strong  life, 
hot  blood,  and  love  within  his  arms. 

But  as  they  came  upon  the  open  moorland  by 
Gros-Nez,  they  saw  the  hollows  whitened  as  though 
some  monstrous  flight  of  gulls  had  pitched  upon 
their  barrenness. 

Goyault  looked. 

"  Karadac's  camp  !  "  he  groaned  ;  "  how  may  we 
enter  now  ?  " 

On  the  farther  side  Gros-Nez  rose  black,  cold, 
high,  fantastic,  against  a  cavernous  sea  of  sunless 
deep  blue.  "  Have  you  forgot  the  postern  by  the 
peak  ?  'Tis  hazardous,  but —  "  the  peasant  paused. 
But  Goyault  whispered,  "Come,"  and  plunged  into 
the  trees  as  a  woman  rode  out  from  the  forest 
depths  alone. 

Cold,  black,  high,  fantastic  as  some  giant's  dwell- 
ing in  a  dream,  so  the  Castle  seemed  to  Gundred 
also.  Below  it  by  his  tent  the  Count's  banner  was 
a-flutter  in  the  breeze.  All  the  west  yawned  darkly 
blue,  mysterious  ;  it  might  have  been  an  hour  of 
forces  not  of  earth,  a  moving  of  old-world  noises 
from  the  deepset  caverns  of  the  cliffs. 

Dim  and  vast  and  dreamlike :  so  lay  the  scene, 
and  Gundred  felt  its  power.  Under  a  peaked  pa- 
vilion, Karadac  lay  sleeping,  or,  more  like,  awake 
and  brooding  over  the  strange  treachery  of  her  he 
deemed  his  wife — Algitha. 


248  GUNDRED. 

For  none  had  dared  to  face  his  cold  black  anger 
with  the  truth.  Therefore  Gundred  urged  her 
horse  across  the  thick  grasses,  and  slipped  from  it 
where  a  sentinel  stood  out  across  her  path. 

"  Lead  me  to  the  Count,"  she  faltered. 

The  fellow  scowled. 

"  Aye,  if  it  be  his  will,"  he  answered  roughly. 

But  one  came  and  led  her  straightway  to  the  tent. 

Karadac  stood  gaunt  within,  a  rushlight  flicker- 
ing on  his  face.  Dark  and  haggard  he  looked, 
Sorrow's  son,  begot  of  Wrath  in  some  supremest 
hour. 

"  What  would  you,  lady?  "  he  said  gently. 

Gundred  found  no  speech  to  tell  him.  Where 
could  she  begin  a  tale  so  wildly  infamous  ? 

"  Lady,  speak  on.  You,  I  think — were  once  my 
friend."  He  spoke  again  in  a  low  voice.  "  Would 
you  plead  for  them  ?  " 

She  clasped  her  hands  together  in  a  desperate 
travail  to  bring  forth  words.  Never  in  all  his  life 
had  Karadac  looked  so  kindly  on  her.  His  sorrow 
stirred  him  to  strange  memories.  He  bent  for- 
ward. 

"  Lady,  I  do  bethink  me  of  a  day  long  past. 
Will  you  forgive  ?  " 

But  Gundred  flung  herself  upon  her  knees,  and 
stretching  forth  her  hands  she  cried  : 

"  Forgive — forgive  !  Is  there  forgiveness  upon 
earth  ?  Karadac,  Algitha  is  not  your  wife.  You 
have  been  deceived — " 


GUNDRED.  249 

His  dumb  gaze  was  upon  her,  and  as  if  by  some 
command  she  drew  herself  upwards  to  her  feet, 
meeting  his  eyes,  yet  drawing  back,  her  hand  upon 
her  breast. 

Those  soft  full  tones,  the  dear  and  haunting 
cadence  of  that  speech  !  Karadac  stared  upon  her 
as  one  might  gaze  upon  the  risen  dead,  then  as  the 
truth  came  home  to  him,  a  word,  full  of  all  meaning 
of  all  woe  and  all  reproach  since  the  world  began, 
fell  from  him. 

"  You  ?  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

KARADAC. 
"  YOU  !  " 

A  little  word,  but  unmeasured  in  its  meaning. 

It  carried  the  old  cold  mislike  churned  with  an 
awful  scorn  and  loathing. 

Gundred  felt  the  ice-flame  of  it  scorch  her  from 
head  to  foot. 

She  made  no  appeal ;  the  wrong  done  was  past 
appeal.  Only  long  after  did  Karadac  recall  her 
heart-stricken  face,  and  vainly  grieve  for  its  des- 
pair. She  turned  from  him  trembling  and  groping 
for  the  door,  and  so  passed  out  into  the  dawning 
with  her  dumb  sorrow.  But  a  step  or  two  without 
she  stumbled  and  fell  swooning  across  the  thresh- 
old of  the  tent. 

She  was  gone  !  For  the  instant  he  breathed  re- 
lief. 

Then  the  full  knowledge  of  himself,  not  the  self 
who  but  that  morning  lay  tranced  in  happy  dreams, 
but  the  strange  self  which  stood  before  the  gaze  of 
all  the  world  came  on  him,  a  self  he  wotted  nothing 
of,  Gundred's  husband,  babbling  in  public  of  his 
Algitha,  the  mock  of  fools  !  Deceived,  dishonoured, 
shamed  for  evermore  ! 


KARADAC.  251 

He  fell  as  a  man  falls  from  a  great  height  into 
some  deadly  depth  of  water  unawares,  the  chill 
rush  roaring  in  his  ears,  his  mind  agasp  for  breath 
in  tumbling  chaos. 

Two  thoughts  he  snatched  at.  Gundred  at 
length  had  spoken  truth,  her  voice  a  warrant  not 
to  be  denied.  And  Goyault — how  had  they 
worked  their  falsehoods  to  this  issue  ?  What  part 
played  Algitha  in  that  cruel  jugglery  ? 

The  Count  wrenched  himself  free  from  all  the 
tangle  of  his  suffering,  and  turned  to  anger  with  a 
sense  of  easement.  Time  enough  to  think  out  the 
woven  meshes  of  deceit  and  guilt  when  Gros-Nez 
was  his  own.  So  he  strode  forth  to  view  the  Castle, 
bringing  the  force  of  his  dark  genius  to  bear  upon 
the  siege. 

But  close  to  the  falling  folds  of  his  pavilion  a 
dark  figure  lay  across  his  path,  and  one  with  a  lan- 
tern bending  over  it  :  Gundred  as  a  dead  woman 
without  sense  or  life,  and  Tonstain  by  her.  Kara- 
dac  drew  back  a  pace.  These  two  had  been  to- 
gether with  him  in  his  blindness — suspicion  rose  to 
sheer  repulsion  in  his  throat. 

"  Who  is  this  lady,  sieur  de  Grouville  ? "  the 
Count's  voice  was  harder  than  its  wont. 

Then  Tonstain  understood  that  all  was  told  and 
known. 

"The  Lady  Gundred  is  your  wife,  my  lord 
Count." 

"  Yet   only  now   have   you   called   her   by  that 


252  KARADAC. 

name,  Tonstain.     How  is  it  that  you  have  tricked 
my  ear  through  all  these  weeks  ?  " 

Tonstain  drew  himself  upright.  His  dignity  of 
mien  was  unabated  under  Karadac's  accusing 
frown. 

"All — all  that  has  been  was  for  your  health's 
sake,  lord  Count.  If  wrong  was  done  you,  'twas  to 
save  your  life." 

"  Then  would  God  that  I  had  died  !  "  It  was 
the  only  bitter  cry  man  ever  heard  on  Karadac's 
lips.  Henceforth  he  bore  himself  in  silent  cold- 
ness. 

But  the  words  passed  through  Gundred's  waken- 
ing senses  to  her  heart. 

"  Hear  me,  lord  Karadac,"  began  Tonstain. 

"  Nay,  no  need,  I  have  heard  all,"  the  Count 
said.  "Take  my  lady  to  some  place  of  safety  and 
good  shelter  ;  send  for  her  women,  and  see  that  she 
has  all  tendance  and  observation  fitting  her  estate. 
You,  sieur  de  Grouville,  doubtless  know  her  wishes  ; 
see  that  all  be  done  as  she  desires." 

"  I  have  important  tidings  for  your  ear,  seigneur." 

"  There  is  no  urgence  that  may  not  wait  my 
lady's  pleasure.  Go,  and  return." 

******** 

The  morning  broke  with  blustering  winds  and 
rain,  and  birds  came  crying  over  from  the  storm- 
tossed  sea,  but  wheeled  away  at  sight  of  men  who 
moved  upon  the  lonely  down.  For  war  and  morn- 
ing came  together.  The  smitten  ring  of  bow- 


KARADAC.  253 

strings,  the  hissing  of  the  heavy  bolts  that,  sweep- 
ing high  above  the  battlements,  fell  on  those  within  : 
the  hoarse  voice  of  the  besiegers,  the  answering 
shouts  from  Goyault's  men :  the  crash  of  falling 
stones  :  the  dull  wet  wink  of  arms  when  a  gleam  of 
sunlight  shot  athwart  a  torn  wrack  of  cloud. 

The  besiegers  harassed  the  Castle,  yet  none 
pressed  home  the  fight,  though  there  were  wounds, 
and  blood  upon  the  grass,  and  dying  men,  until  at 
noon  the  great  assault  was  made. 

Goyault,  in  the  furious  joy  of  battle,  moved 
amongst  his  men,  glad  as  he  had  not  been  for  many 
days.  He  was  well  assured  that  they  could  keep 
the  foe  wearing  out  his  heart  under  their  grey  walls 
until  some  happy  chance  of  escape  by  sea  should 
offer. 

But  he  had  not  seen  a  little  band,  with  Tonstain 
heading  it,  creep  from  the  camp  before  the  dawn 
and  wind  away  to  hide  itself  among  the  mossy 
scoops  and  rifts  that  rib  the  cliffs  to  southward. 

How  Goyault  had  carried  off  his  wife  and  how 
won  into  the  Castle  before  the  mounted  knights 
and  men  led  by  the  Count  in  swift  pursuit  had 
reached  Gros-Nez,  none  could  guess  though  all  had 
wondered,  and  in  truth  admired.  But  a  spy  who 
came  to  Tonstain  in  the  evening  hour  told  of  a 
horse  full  caparisoned  hid  in  a  hut  among  the  sand- 
hills of  St.  Ouen.  And,  as  luck  would  have  it,  Gun- 
dred  by  chance  supplied  the  missing  clue. 

Tonstain  put  a  question,  which  she  roused  herself 
to  answer. 


254  KARADAC. 

Aye,  she  had  seen  them,  Algitha  and  Goyault, 
ride  through  the  trees  as  she  herself  emerged  from 
out  them.  Later,  they  were  stealing  towards  the 
cliffs. 

"The  cliffs?"  said  Tonstain,  with  a  wrinkle  in 
his  brow. 

"  If  I  can  give  my  lord  naught  else,  let  me  give 
him  his  revenge  !  "  Gundred  said  bitterly.  "  For 
once  I  mind  me  that  I  saw  a  little  postern  door  shut 
in  the  folding  of  the  rock  nigh  water-mark  under 
the  peak  of  Gros-Nez,  and  there  were  traces  of  a 
perilous  path  from  ledge  to  ledge  and  under  hang- 
ing heights — a  place  of  deadly  peril,  but  by  that 
path  Goyault  has  led  his  wife  to  safety." 

"  Safety  ? — No,  lady,  for  I  go  to  pluck  them  from 
their  nest." 

Thus,  while  fresh  men  were  pouring  from  outlying 
districts  into  camp  and  joining  in  the  fray,  while 
Karadac  had  run  the  gauntlet  of  lance-windows  with 
their  showering  arrows  to  strike  the  gate  with 
armoured  hand  and  call  for  swift  surrender,  Ton- 
stain  and  his  men  gained  the  forgotten  little  postern 
by  the  tide-lip,  and,  entering  the  Castle,  crept  up  to 
where  Algitha  waited  with  her  maidens. 

And  Algitha,  before  she  knew,  was  prisoner,  for 
all  had  been  so  subtly  planned,  so  quickly  done,  so 
deadly  sure,  that  not  a  fugitive — nay,  not  a  cry — 
betrayed  the  stealing  enemy. 

Then  Tonstain,  with  a  handful  of  his  following, 
went  forth  upon  the  walls  and  shouted  for  Goyault. 


KARADAC.  255 

And  those  who  pressed  the  siege  without  heard  and 
drove  on  with  hope  renewed.  The  while  Goyault, 
a  sudden  pallor  on  his  cheek,  bade  his  men  strike 
and  spare  not. 

"  Hold,  Goyault !  As  I  die,  thy  wife  dies  also  :  " 
Tonstain  raised  his  hand. 

And  a  voice  arose  from  within  the  tower : 

"  Strike,  my  lord  !  Strike,  Goyault !  What  is 
my  life  to  be  compared  with  victory?  Strike,  for  I 
fear  not !  " 

But  Goyault  groaned  aloud,  and  cast  his  sword 
at  Tonstain's  feet  and  cursed  him  where  he  stood. 

With  ebb  of  tide  rain  ceased  to  fall,  but  the 
wind  still  screamed  across  the  ocean,  as  the  great 
gates  were  set  wide  and  the  garrison  came  forth, 
laying  down  their  arms  beside  the  guard-tower,  now 
held  by  Karadac's  retainers. 

Algitha,  standing  within  the  portcullis,  heard  the 
grumbling  of  the  sullen  men-at-arms,  she  caught  the 
malignant  glance  of  the  old  lean  long-armed  captain 
of  Gros-Nez,  and  well  she  knew  that  each  man 
cursed  her  beneath  his  breath  as  being  the  cause  of 
Goyault's  quarrel  and  his  conquest.  That  day's 
surrender  robbed  Goyault  of  much  of  his  renown, 
and  by  so  much  the  more  was  the  Count  exalted  to 
heights  of  praise  as  one  invincible.  The  meed  of 
victory  was  doubly  his,  since  Goyault  faced  him  as 
rival  both  in  love  and  arms. 

Algitha's  proud  heart  grew  hot  and  sick,  but 
never  had  she  looked  more  dauntless  and  more 


256  KARADAC. 

lovely  than  when  she  moved  to  join  Goyault  as  he 
was  led  before  her,  half-mailed  and  swordless. 

His  head  was  bare,  the  blustering  winds  touched 
its  circling  curls,  his  face  was  set  and  he  carried 
himself  no  longer  shamed  or  broken  to  the  presence 
of  his  lord.  The  blot  upon  his  honour  weighed  him 
down  no  more  ;  he  remembered  only  the  fierce  kiss, 
given  though  it  was  in  saddest  error  and  with  no 
thought  of  sin,  that  still  lay  unavenged,  an  outrage 
on  his  wife's  fair  purity. 

So  they  two  hand  in  hand  approached  the  or- 
dered group,  where- Karadac  stood  tall,  even  to  the 
most  careless  glance  marked  out  as  master  of  the 
multitude, — a  stately  figure,  fateful-eyed.  Round 
him  his  knights,  and,  an  ell  or  two  withdrawn, 
Gundred,  whom  her  lord  had  bidden  to  her  place 
as  his  wife  and  lady.  But  alas  !  she  noted  that 
never  once  throughout  that  hour  did  his  face  seek 
hers.  He  gave  her  all  reverence,  but  no  sign  of 
grace. 

As  Goyault  came  nearer,  Karadac  raised  his  visor 
and  the  two  looked  upon  each  other.  Karadac 
could  have  sighed, — Goyault  forsworn,  and  yet 
defiant ! 

A  heavy  silence  prefaced  the  coming  storm. 

"  Have  you  aught  to  say,  sieur  of  Saint  Ouen  ?  " 
asked  the  Count  coldly. 

"Aye,  much  that  touches  on  our  case  as  liege 
and  vassal,  and  more  of  that  which  lies  between  us 
man  and  man,"  replied  Goyault. 


KARADAC.  257 

"  Speak  on." 

Goyault  had  no  need  to  see  the  visored  faces 
round  them,  well  he  knew  what  hidden  smiles  were 
waiting  his  defence. 

"  My  lady  Algitha  was  your  guest  with  me  at 
Mont  Orgueil,  lord  Count :  why  were  we  hunted 
thence  like  wolves?"  the  question  burst  from 
wrathful  lips,  which  yet  omitted  not  to  use  di- 
plomacy. 

Karadac's  expression  gave  no  clue  to  his  recoil 
nor  to  how  deeply  the  rude  challenge  thrust  at  the 
sorest  point  of  his  deception. 

"  Your  flight  was  the  sole  issue  of  your  dishonour 
as  a  knight  and  the  guile  that  juggled  with  my 
blindness  to  secure  its  own  designs,"  he  answered 
calmly.  "  Had  you  not  been  forsworn,  what  need 
had  ever  been  to  fly,  fearing  my  vengeance  ?  " 

This  strong  statement,  unabashed  and  clear,  from 
one  so  reticent,  called  up  a  warmth  towards  his 
cause  in  every  listening  knight.  How  much  such 
words  cost  him  none  but  Gundred  knew:  the  feel- 
ing which  almost  turned  him  coward  on  the  point, 
the  courage  that  bade  him  handle  it  boldly  under 
men's  eyes  was  comprehended  but  of  few  in  those 
rude  days. 

Algitha  raised  her  haughty  head. 

"  He  fled  to  save  me,  lord  Count !  "  she  cried  ac- 
cusingly. 

"  Lady,  by  one  word  of  truth  he  had  saved  you 
more  manfully,"  Karadac  rejoined. 


258  KARADAC. 

"  Manfulness — do  you  speak  of  manfulness  ?  "  she 
went  on.  "  The  noble  Count  of  Gersay  wars 
against  women,  in  good  sooth  !  You  never  could 
have  broken  through  our  Castle  gates,  therefore 
you  must  needs  use  subterfuge.  By  stratagem  and 
threat  of  violence  to  me  you  forced  my  lord's  sub- 
mission. I  would  that  he  had  prized  me  less,  and 
shamed  you  by  my  death  through  all  the  world  !  " 

Karadac  was  bereft  of  words  in  listening  to  her 
voice.  That  form,  which  in  his  blind  fancy  he  had 
cherished  these  long  months  past,  stood  now  before 
him,  possessed  as  by  some  alien  spirit.  It  is  hard 
to  think  of  one  whom  we  have  loved  and  known 
turned  on  a  sudden  to  a  stranger,  to  hear  dear  lips 
speak  in  a  voice  all  unfamiliar  to  the  expectant  ear. 
So  it  was  with  him.  This  woman,  whose  form  and 
flush  and  beauty  imagination  had  rendered  his  own 
possession  and  daily  near  to  him,  was  sundered  far 
within  one  short  day's  space.  These  thoughts  she 
uttered  were  not  the  thoughts  of  Algitha  as  he 
knew  them  ;  the  voice  with  its  silver  harpstring 
tone,  was  not  that  which  in  his  blindness  had  met 
his  questionings  and  answered  his  deep  vows  of  love. 

Algitha's  passion  flamed  up  and  fell  before  the 
silence  of  the  Count. 

"  I  await  your  answer,  sieur  of  Saint  Ouen  ;  " 
Karadac  spoke  with  effort,  turning  to  Goyault. 
"  A  knight  forsworn,  what  have  you  yet  to  say  ? 
Here  on  this  heath  you  laid  your  hands  in  mine 
and  swore  me  fealty,  then  you  went  forth  with 


KARADAC.  259 

oaths  upon  your  lips  to  serve  me  truly,  and  to  hold 
my  honour  as  your  own." 

"  In  that  indeed  I  wronged  you,  Count,  but  you 
have  since  wiped  out  my  fault  in  one  far  greater." 

Karadac  gazed  at  him  confounded  by  the  accusa- 
tion, but  the  red  rose  that  sprang  to  Algitha's  white 
cheek  enlightened  him. 

"  An  error  that  falsehood  betrayed  me  to  could 
never  be  regarded  as  offence,"  he  said.  "  Would 
you  desire  me  to  lay  this  matter  before  my  knights 
here  present  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  said  Goyault  with  a  downcast  head. 
"  That  may  pass." 

"  Well,  let  it  pass.  But  your  defence — what  of 
your  dealings  in  my  name  in  Grenezay  ?  " 

"  Nay,  that  he  cannot  answer ;  "  Algitha  stood 
forth  again,  her  blue  eyes  aflame.  "  Can  he  boast 
that  all  unawares  he  won  the  love  of  her  he  battled 
for  so  bravely?  Hear  me,  lord  Count! — I  had 
rather  die  a  hundred  dreadful  deaths  as  witch,  born 
upon  this  earth  without  a  heart  to  love,  than  be 
your  wife !  I  had  long  loved  my  lord  Goyault,  and 
with  him  only  would  I  wed.  And  he  had  pity  on 
me!" 

Proudly  she  boasted  of  her  love,  all  rose  and  gold 
like  some  pure  morning  sky. 

And  in  sooth  the  men  who  looked  upon  her  for- 
gave Goyault.  It  was  beyond  human  power  to  risk 
the  losing  of  such  loveliness. 

"  Lady,  I  loved  you  well ;  "  Karadac's  response 


2<5o  KARADAC. 

came  low  and  full  of  a  strange  thrill :  "  but  never, 
as  I  am  knight,  had  I  forced  love  upon  you  !  Your 
lord  was  long  my  friend  and  my  companion  ;  he 
knew  me  well.  Did  he  so  wrong  me  in  your  ears 
that  you  should  fear  to  come  with  him  to  Gersay 
and  tell  me  all  the  truth?" 

Algitha,  at  the  first  word,  drew  back  abashed. 
And  at  the  last  she  faltered. 

"  Nay,  lord  Count,  but  you  were  blind — that 
moved  him." 

"Moved  him?  "  repeated  Karadac  in  the  same 
low  tone;  "  moved  him,  say  you  ? — to  treason  and 
to  lies? — A  cruel  truth  had  been  the  kinder!  " 

The  night  was  blowing  up  with  banking  clouds, 
and  Karadac,  looking  once  upon  the  sky,  gave  judg- 
ment. 

"  What  have  you  now  to  say,  sieur  Goyault  ?  " 

"  Nothing ! "  said  Goyault  from  between  set 
teeth.  "  Much  has  been  said  my  tongue  had  never 
spoken  !  Naught  remains  but  to  hear  and  bear  my 
punishment." 

"  It  is  one  which  should  accord  with  love  like 
yours,"  Karadac  said  slowly.  "  You  with  your  fair 
wife  are  banished  to  the  lonely  tower  in  the  ocean 
that  lies  one  long  sea-league  from  Saint  Ouen's 
shore.  They  say  it  stood  upon  a  hill  before  the 
waters  rolled  in  upon  the  sunken  valleys,  before 
the  wind  drove  in  those  wastes  of  sand  to  choke  the 
corn  and  cattle  on  the  hills  that  circle  round  the 
bay.  It  is  old  and  desolate ;  none  shall  dwell  there 


KARADAC.  261 

save  you  twain.  At  times  a  boat  shall  bring  you  all 
you  need.  There  live  with  love." 

Then  Algitha  took  her  lord's  hand  again,  and  up- 
raised that  fair  face  of  hers  to  heaven. 

"  Aye,  we  counted  all  the  cost,  my  lord  and  I,  in 
those  sweet  hours  when  first  we  loved.  Gladly  do 
we  lose  all  for  love  !  There  shall  we  dwell  together, 
he  and  I,  with  love  alone  to  help  us,  alone  in  utter 
happiness !  " 

"  I  wish  you  happy,  lady,  as  the  years  wane. 
But,  hear  me,  Goyault,  the  day  that  you  break 
prison  shall  be  your  last  !  " 

"  Why  should  we  come  forth  ? "  Algitha  cried 
again.  "  There  shall  we  possess  all  in  each  other, — 
a  world  within  a  world  !  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

GO  VAULT. 

AT  evening  a  little  boat  crept  to  the  shore  and 
there  swung  waiting.  Under  the  dulling  blue  the 
pool  of  St.  Ouen  lay  like  a  moss  agate,  dusky  grey, 
patterned  with  reeds. 

They  stopped  and  looked  upon  it,  then  came 
down  hand  in  hand,  lingering  like  lovers  on  the 
winding  path,  and  over  the  wide  sands  Goyault 
and  Algitha.  The  little  boat  moved  out  upon  a 
sea  of  glass  and  those  two,  looking  westwards,  saw 
their  prison  black  and  ruinous  against  a  paling  sky. 

"  You  are  not  sad,  Algitha  ?  " 

She  made  a  little  movement  towards  him. 

"  Never  have  I  been  so  happy  !  But  for  you, 
Goyault.  How  will  you  bear  it  ?  Tilting  and 
hawking — cut  off  from  all  a  man's  delights !  " 

His  arm  was  round  her. 

"  Nay,  sweet,  I  carry  with  me  the  chiefest  of  my 
delights." 

Having  landed  them,  the  men  of  Karadac  rowed 
away,  and  alone  they  walked  across  the  coarse  sea- 
grasses  to  their  tower,  and  there  alone  they  dwelt 
amid  the  sounding  waters  while  the  bleak  winter 
days  drew  on. 


GOYAULT.  263 

Nor  wind  nor  weather  pierced  the  portion  of  the 
ruin  that  Karadac  had  prepared  for  them.  Fuel 
and  food  had  they  in  abundance  and  lacked  for 
nothing,  save  the  essential  right  to  live  among  their 
kind. 

The  long  mornings  died  into  long  afternoons,  and 
afternoon's  early  sea-grey  ending  saw  a  few  lights 
twinkle  out  along  the  distant  curve  of  shore,  and  so 
the  long  evenings  came.  Darkness  clung  in  tumult 
round  their  dwelling  through  storm-racked  nights  ; 
from  week  to  week  the  very  walls  were  drenched  in 
spray.  So  they  lived  with  love  alone  to  help  them. 

At  first  absorbed  in  idle-sweet  monotony  they 
watched  sunrise  and  sunset  and  the  moon  grow  up 
behind  the  sand  dunes.  Then  by  degrees  that  rich 
joyousness  of  life  together  merged  into  a  vast  con- 
tent. A  day  marked  here  and  there  by  some  new 
surprise  drawn  from  further  knowledge  of  each 
other,  which  quickened  the  pulse  of  love. 

Thus  they  lived  in  exile  in  their  stone  prison  by 
the  sea. 

It  was  Karadac's  wont  to  send  to  them  a  boat  at 
intervals,  but  those  who  came  with  it  spoke  not  to 
the  prisoners  of  the  isle.  The  world  went  on  with- 
out them,  but  Goyault,  as  time  flowed,  thought 
more  often  of  his  people  and  his  Castle  of  Gros- 
Nez.  He  began  to  yearn  for  sight  of  those  tall 
towers  and  heavy  curving  walls  and  battlements. 
At  night  he  limned  upon  the  darkness  that  picture 
of  it  which  pursued  him  ever, — outlined  in  burning 


264  GOYAULT 

gold  against  a  stormy  evening,  as  he  was  wont  to 
see  it  in  those  bygone  days  when  he  rode  home 
weary  and  happy  after  a  long  day  spent  with  hawk 
or  hound. 

All  this  Algitha  knew  in  her  heart  and  was 
grieved  for,  but  spoke  nothing,  since  there  are  some 
sorrows  which,  once  hardened  into  words,  fret  the 
more  sorely. 

But  one  afternoon  of  sad  dense  grey  as  they  two 
walked  the  rocks  and  looked  out  across  the  sea-fog 
for  the  boat  whose  time  was  due,  and  each  felt 
shamed  to  hunger  for  the  sight  of  strangers  and 
strove  to  hide  the  wish  one  from  the  other,  Goyault 
began  to  speak  ojf  the  past  days,  and  so  told  her  all 
the  story  of  Karadac  and  his  blindness,  and  the 
long  night  spent  in  listening  to  the  falling  rain  and 
voices  of  the  storm.  And  still  the  boat  delayed, 
until  there  blew  towards  them  from  the  land  a  keen 
cliff  wind  and  through  the  clearing  air  they  saw  the 
boat  coming,  and  above  it  shone  a  wan  young 
moon. 

"Another  moon,  another  hour,"  said  Goyault. 

"And  did  his  moon,  the  black  Count's  moon, 
shine  red  that  night?" 

"  Aye,  for  I  remember  how  I  saw  it — a  red  and 
doomful  moon,  reflected  deep  amongst  the  broken 
waters  of  the  pool." 

A  long  silence  hung  between  them. 

"  I  would,  sweet,  that  we  two  were  once  more  at 
Gros-Nez,"  Goyault  said  at  last,  and  groaned  for  very 


GOYAULT  265 

longing.  "  I  love  the  bleak  singing  of  the  blast,  and 
every  stone  that  builds  my  Castle  from  rock-foot  up 
to  tower  !  " 

Algitha  laid  her  head  against  his  shoulder  and  said 
the  words  which  she  knew  Goyault  must  utter  soon 
or  late. 

"  Let  us  leave  this  desolation,  Goyault.  You  are 
too  meek  in  your  long  yielding  to  the  Count's  will. 
You  have  forbidden  those  to  help  us  who  yearn  to 
set  you  back  into  your  rightful  place.  Let  us  go 
hence  to  France  and  sue  your  pardon — if  pardon  in- 
deed be  needed — from  the  Duke.  A  signal  to  the 
shore — no  more, — and  we  are  free  !  " 

"Aye,  and  that  would  I  do  but  for  the  love  I  bear 
Gros-Nez.  If  I  broke  prison  and  appealed  to  Wil- 
liam, Karadac  would  pull  my  towers  stone  from 
stone  till  naught  remained  but  ruins.  I  cannot, 
Algitha  ! " 

And  no  more  passed  between  them  till  the  boat's 
stem  touched  the  rock  and  men  went  to  and  fro  bear- 
ing provisions  to  the  tower,  but  silent  all.  And 
one  stayed  in  the  boat,  and  upon  him  in  the  gloam- 
ing Algitha  came  with  her  beauty  and  shining  eyes, 
and  asked  him  softly  : 

"  What  of  Gros-Nez,  boatman  ?  Who  rules  there 
now  my  lord  is  absent  ?  " 

And  he,  not  hearing  her  soft  footstep,  glanced  up 
and  saw  the  starry  eyes  and  wondrous  form,  and 
bethought  him  of  the  witch  men  called  her  and 
cried  out  in  fear. 


266  GOYAULT. 

"  Avaunt !  Wouldst  confound  my  poor  soul  also  ? 
Avaunt,  thou  curse  upon  this  good  land  of  God  ! 
Gros-Nez,  good  sooth,  which  was  so  strong  but  yes- 
terday that  even  Karadac  the  great  Count  but 
won  it  through  a  stratagem  ! — who  rules  there  now  ? 
Nay,  I  know  not,  the  Evil  One  no  doubt !  For  the 
bats  chirp  already  in  the  broken  corners  of  the  walls, 
the  wild  cat  nests  upon  its  hearthstones,  and  the 
wind  cries  lonely  through  its  roofless  towers.  You 
brought  a  curse  there  with  you,  witch !  "  and  so 
crossed  himself. 

Algitha  stepped  back  in  silence  and  watched  the 
boat  away  again,  for  now  she  knew  their  exile  was 
not  long. 


CHAPTER  V. 

GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION. 

MEANTIME  in  Gouray  life  went  sadly. 

Karadac,  more  silent,  more  withdrawn,  dwelt  in 
a  lonely  turret,  where  even  on  quiet  afternoons  the 
wind  cried  with  ceaseless  melancholy  pipe,  the  cry 
which  suggests  things  past  even  to  careless  ears. 

Things  past ! — there  lay  the  horror  and  the  sting. 
He  was  a  man  bereaved,  but  with  a  loss  more  com- 
plete than  death  had  ever  made  it.  Robbed  alike 
of  past  and  future,  he  had  naught  to  hope  for,  noth- 
ing to  regret.  Could  he  regret  or  hope  again  to 
meet  that  which  had  never  being?  He  had  desired 
Love  the  beautiful,  and  found  it — held  in  his  arms 
a  fulfilment  of  his  long  dreams  of  youth  and  man- 
hood— his  wife !  One  hour  he  held  her,  a  warm 
breathing  presence  whispering  words  of  love  in  that 
dear  haunting  voice  ;  the  next  he  knew  himself  for 
evermore  alone.  His  Algitha  had  no  existence 
under  heaven.  One  like  to  her  indeed  was  Goyault's 
wife,  but  that  fair  woman  with  the  sweet  high  voice 
was  not  she  whom  he  had  loved.  The  long  waves 
had  called  out  a  message  in  those  lost  summer  after- 
noons to  him  and  her  who  was  his  love — a  message 
that  Goyault's  wife  could  never  understand  ;  the 


268  GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION. 

flush  and  smell  of  rain  new-fallen  was  a  rejoicing  to 
them  both  ;  their  souls  had  thrilled  to  the  same  deep 
wordless  touch  ;  between  them  had  been  no  need  of 
speech  in  their  most  influenced  hours.  Such  was 
the  Love  who  had  been  born  and  who  had  died  mys- 
teriously in  his  days  of  darkness.  For  behold,  when 
his  eyes  were  opened,  he  had  seen  a  face  like  hers 
but  yet  despairingly  unlike,  and  found  her  voice 
robbed  of  its  linked  embodiment,  therefore  no 
longer  hers. 

Gundred !  The  whole  tissue  of  her  falsehood 
and  her  wearying  love  drove  from  him  hopelessly 
the  thought  that  in  her  dwelt  the  soul  he  had 
companioned  with  in  those  charmed  hours.  Doubly 
bereaved  by  the  cruel  mockery  of  a  love,  since  his 
Algitha — for  so  he  called  her  still — was  not  any  liv- 
ing thing,  but  a  body  and  a  soul  divorced  one  from 
the  other.  The  monstrous  thought  weighed  on 
him  like  some  evil  dream  from  which  he  could  not 
waken. 

Gundred  dwelt  also  at  the  Castle,  surrounded  at 
her  lord's  desire  by  all  honour  and  ceremony  befitting 
her  estate.  Attired  with  splendour,  moving  as  a 
queen,  she  passed  her  days  fulfilling  all  the  duties 
which  clustered  about  her  as  the  Count's  wife,  but 
ever  friendless  and  apart,  carrying  her  stricken  heart 
hidden  from  the  world.  Yet  she  was  not  as  Karadac, 
all  comfortless  ;  in  her  harder  moments  a  secret 
pride  was  hers  ;  all  was  over  now,  but  Karadac  had 
been  her  lover  and  was  still  her  lord. 


GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION.  269 

But  even  this  comfort  died  because  of  her  great 
love.  She  shrank  from  sight  of  Karadac,  but  when 
they  met  by  chance  his  altering  visage  smote  her 
with  a  fresh  remorse.  She  was  free  to  gaze  upon 
him,  for  that  first  look  in  the  tent  by  Gros-Nez  had 
also  been  the  last  between  them.  He  passed  her 
with  averted  eyes, — aye,  and  she  had  marked  a  little 
rounding  of  the  shoulders,  as  one  who  dreads  a  blow, 
when  her  voice  fell  by  chance  upon  his  ears. 

Long  nights,  short  days,  and  so  the  darkest  of 
that  sad  winter  wore  away. 

Spring  comes  early  to  those  blessed  islands,  kissed 
into  life  by  the  warm  lips  of  the  great  wandering 
tropic  stream.  'Twas  scarcely  yet  the  second  month 
of  the  new  year,  but  flowers  were  thrusting  upwards 
through  the  grass,  and  buds  showed  on  the  wild-rose 
briers  in  the  pleasance.  About  this  time  the  austere 
aspect  of  the  Count  grew  harsher,  and  Gundred  felt 
the  burden  of  his  hate  too  heavy  to  be  borne.  Her 
courage  failed  at  last ;  she  only  prayed  for  some 
solitary  place  where  she  might  wear  her  sorrow 
openly. 

Therefore,  through  Tonstain,  she  was  fain  to  ask 
her  lord's  permission  to  leave  the  Castle  for  a  time. 
But  Tonstain,  perhaps  with  a  belief  that  if  the  two 
could  come  at  speech  again  with  one  another,  things 
might  yet  go  well,  so  altered  the  tenor  of  the  mes- 
sage that  Karadac,  though  openly  reluctant,  sought 
the  presence  of  his  wife. 

They  met  at  the  door  of  the  chapel,  where  Gun- 
dred was  now  wont  to  pass  long  hours, 


GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION. 

"  You  have  sent  for  me,  lady.     What  would  you  ?  " 

She  fell  back  with  a  smothered  cry. 

"  Nay,  my  lord,  I  would  not  so  trouble  you.  Ton- 
stain  carried  my  request." 

Her  eyes  were  on  the  ground,  but  her  voice 
moved  him,  first  as  a  sacred  memory  moves  the 
man,  then  with  an  irrational  sense  of  outrage  as 
though  Gundred  had  usurped  those  tender  tones. 

"  What  was  your  request,  lady  ?  " 

His  estranged  courtesy  made  her  bold. 

"  I  would  go  to  Rozel,  my  lord,  and  from  thence 
to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Michael  on  the  Mount  to  pray 
at  the  sacred  shrine. — I  beseech  you  let  me  go,  for 
my  life  is  scarce  to  be  endured !  " 

"  Our  lives  are  oftenest  what  we  make  them,"  he 
answered  harshly.  "  But  go,  lady  ;  your  pleasure 
is  my  will." 

"  Nay,  lord  Karadac, — "  then  checked  herself,  for 
a  darkness  gloomed  upon  his  brow  and  few  dared 
to  face  that  thunderous  wrath.  "  I  go.  Farewell !  " 
And  so  parted. 

Since  her  return  to  Gouray,  Gundred  had  pre- 
vailed upon  Sir  Drogo  to  remain  much  at  his  own 
seigneurie  of  Rozel,  urging  that  a  careless  word 
might  ruin  all  her  happiness.  Therefore  now  that 
she  was  returned  again  beneath  his  roof,  he  took 
much  note  of  all  her  looks  and  moods,  peering 
at  her  in  his  monkey  fashion  with  sad  eyes,  but 
gathered  little  to  comfort  him  therefrom. 

At  length  she  told  htm  of  her  intended  pilgrim- 


GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION.  271 

age  to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Michael  on  the  Mount. 
And  to  that  he  answered  but  by  a  single  question. 

"  And  when  do  you  return  to  your  lord's  side?  " 

"  I  know  not !  "  she  cried  out  in  a  sudden  break 
of  bitterness.  "  Never  perchance  !  Father,  I  would 
dwell  with  you." 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  Sieur  Drogo  de 
Barantin  left  his  home  alone  and  secretly  on  a 
blustering  day,  but  reached  Mont  Orgueil  with  half 
a  score  of  retainers  at  his  back  and  no  small  pomp 
of  ceremony.  There  he  clanged  loudly  on  the 
Castle  gate,  and  demanded  audience  of  the  Count 
of  Gersay.  Which  Karadac  accorded  him,  wonder- 
ing somewhat,  but  anxious  to  show  him  courtesy 
that  none  might  find  room  for  evil  rendering  of 
Gundred's  absence. 

Drogo  raised  his  visor,  and  those  who  stood  by 
saw  he  was  charged  with  a  matter  ponderous  in  his 
own  eyes. 

"  I  come  hither  on  behalf  of  the  Lady  Gundred," 
he  began,  and  an  irrepressible  closing  in  of  eager 
hearers  followed  on  the  words. 

But  here  Karadac  intervened. 

"  No  more,  good  Drogo,  until  we  two  are  alone. 
Since  the  matter  concerns  my  wife,  I  will  confer 
with  you  in  private.  Sirs,  will  you  leave  us." 

But  Drogo,  timorous  of  the  Count's  harsh  mien, 
clutched  at  the  long  sleeve  of  Tonstain  as  he  passed. 

"  Stay  then,  good  Tonstain,  I  would  not  be  alone 
with  him !  " 


272  GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION. 

Which  Karadac  overheard,  and  smiling  his  grim 
smile  said  • 

"  Remain,  sieur  de  Grouville," — and  in  the  hus- 
tling of  departing  feet  he  added  :  "  There  is  little 
of  our  most  near  affairs  but  you  have  close  know- 
ledge of !  Has  the  Lady  Gundred  sent  you,  Sir 
Drogo  ?  " 

"  Nay,  lord  Count,  your  lady  is  too  sorrowful 
for  many  words.  She  knows  not  of  my  coming." 
Drogo  met  Karadac's  frown  and  was  shaken  out  of 
all  self-complacency.  What  he  would  have  said  he 
knew  not  ;  the  only  words  that  sprang  upon  his  lips 
shook  him  with  the  horror  of  their  echo.  "  Count 
Karadac,  your  wife — your  wife  hath  been  most 
villainously  wronged  !  " 

"  Wronged — what  mean  you  ?  "  Karadac  asked 
sharply. 

"She  has  been  made  unhappy!  "  gasped  Drogo, 
and  stopped. 

Karadac  turned  away  and  paced  up  the  long  hall, 
and  Tonstain,  whispering  into  Drogo's  ear,  said  : 

"  Speak  openly  ;  fear  nothing." 

"  Has  she  complained  of  her  unhappiness  ?  " 
Karadac  swung  round. 

"  Is  there  need  of  words  to  those  who  look  on 
that  sad  countenance  ?  She  droops  and  weeps  and 
prays.  Those  who  pray  much  are  seldom  happy." 
Drogo  shook  his  head,  approving  his  own  wisdom. 
"  Why  is  she  driven  from  your  side  ?  " 

"  Nay,  she  entreated  that  she  might  go  to  the 
Abbey  of  St.  Michael." 


GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION.  273 

"  And  you  said  Aye  !  "  cried  out  the  little  knight 
aghast. 

"  I  would  fain  please  her." 

"  Please  her?  Have  you  pleased  her  here  where 
by  your  neglect  she  has  become  the  scoff  of  every 
scurvy  tongue  and  wanton  eye  ?  And  now,  for- 
sooth, you  bid  her  go  to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Michael 
on  the  Mount,  across  those  quaking  quicksands 
where  ships  and  live  trees  are  swallowed  up  !  Have 
you  no  care  for  her  who  loved  you  when  you 
scorned  her?" — Drogo's  tongue,  once  loosed,  was 
hard  to  check;  half-terrified  and  half-solicitous,  he 
ran  on  :  "  She  who  nursed  you  back  to  life,  and 
made  herself  a  sacrifice  to  fools  that  you  might 
clasp  your  fancied  Algitha  in  your  fevered  arms  ? 
She  hath  loved  you  through  all  this  brain-sick  folly, 
for  the  which  they  tell  me  you  despise  her!  Is 
this  your  boasted  chivalry,  lord  Count?  " 

"  You  forget,  Sir  Drogo,  that  I  was  bitterly  de- 
ceived." 

"Deceived? — to  take  into  your  arms  a  noble 
lady  of  good  Gersay  blood  instead  of  one  who  hath 
well  been  called  a  witch  !  " 

"Silence!"  thundered  Karadac ;  "we  have  no 
speech  here  of  any  lady  but — my  wife." 

Drogo  sniffed  nervously,  but  the  stream  of  words 
overflowed  again. 

"Nay,  I  say  nothing ;  the  Saxon  maybe  inno- 
cent, but  she  has  been  exiled  from  the  Island,"  he 
went  on  resentfully.  "  And  is  my  Gundred  also  to 


274  GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION. 

be  driven  forth  as  too  ill-favoured  for  her  lord's 
fantasies !  Has  she  not  felt  the  bitter  hurt,  think 
you,  nor  caught  the  smile  of  those  who  wait  upon 
her,  yet  know  she  is  despised  ?  " 

"What  is  this  you  say?" 

"  Nay,  hear  me  out !  You  have  sent  her  forth, — 
be  it  at  her  own  desire  or  yours,  I  care  not — you 
have  sent  her  forth  upon  a  journey  full  of  strange 
dangers.  Lord  Karadac,  if  you  care  nothing  for 
her  life,  have  you  forgot  the  life  she  bears  within 
her — the  child,  your  child,  which  should  be  born  to 
carry  your  great  name  down  to  generations  yet 
to  come  ?  Would  you  that  too  were  buried  in  the 
wild  marshes  under  Michael's  Mount  ?  "  He  ceased 
for  lack  of  breath. 

And  Karadac  stood  like  one  stricken  before  him, 
only  the  black  eyes  searched  the  wizened  monkey- 
face  for  proof  of  this  undreamed-of  consummation. 

"  My  child  !  "  the  Count  spoke  softly. 

"  Aye,  'tis  even  so." 

Karadac  moved  from  them  and  paced  to  and  fro. 
"Your  child  !  "  the  words  rang  in  his  brain.  That 
Algitha  whom  he  had  dreamed  of  in  the  forest 
through  those  happy  days  of  blindness!  Algitha — 
his  heart  leapt  at  the  name  and  sank  again.  Algitha 
and  Gundred,  the  fatal  juggle  that  had  left  his  life 
defeated  ! 

His  child?  The  thought  touched  him,  but  with 
it  came  no  softening  towards  Gundred. 

Yet — he   yearned    for  that    lost   Algitha,    pure, 


GUNDRED'S  CHAMPION.  275 

young  and  fair,  made  all  of  love  and  for  love,  who 
was,  alas !  he  knew  it,  but  an  empty  name. 

A  bitter  tide  of  memories  rose  up  and  ebbed. 
And  while  he  still  brooded,  Drogo's  impatience 
broke  in  upon  him. 

"  Gundred  shall  return — is  it  my  lord's  wish?" 

The  Count  stood  still.  Gundred's  return — how 
should  he  meet  her  now?  How  shield  her  from  the 
contempt  that  falls  upon  a  wife  ill-favoured  and  un- 
loved ?  How  give  her  due  consideration,  since  he 
could  not  alter  the  manner  of  his  life  nor  offer  to 
her  love  ? 

Stay  !  He  could  not  be  her  lover,  but  was  he  not 
her  knight  ?  A  quick  glow  lit  up  his  dark  visage, 
and  Tonstain,  marking  it,  wondered  what  would 
come. 

"  Drogo,"  the  Count  stepped  down  to  them  and 
laid  his  hand  kindly  on  the  old  man's  shoulder ; 
"  pray  my  Lady  Gundred  to  return,  for  I  will  pro- 
claim a  tournament  whereat  I  shall  uphold  my 
lady's  beauty  against  all  comers." 

Drogo  shot  out  a  disappointed  lip 

"  And  if  my  lord  should  fall — it  will  be  poor 
comfort  for  his  widow  !  " 

"  Fall?"  Karadac  laughed  aloud,  and  Tonstain 
liked  ill  the  echo  of  that  laugh.  "  Nay,  but  I  must 
live  and  conquer  for  my  lady's  sake,  to  prove  her 
uttermost  supremacy ! " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  TOWER  IN  THE  SEA. 

GOYAULT  stood  upon  the  blowing  sea-grass  be- 
neath the  naked  tower  and  watched  the  long  rising 
swell  roll  past  him  to  crash  in  breakers  on  the  bay's 
circling  sands.  Algitha  had  told  him  nothing  yet 
of  the  ruin  wrought  at  Gros-Nez,  and  from  their 
islet  they  could  not  see  its  towers,  for  between  them 
rose  the  jagged  cliffs  of  Grande  Etaquerel  and  the 
uplands  running  northwards. 

Daily  the  monotony  of  his  banishment  weighed 
more  heavily  upon  Goyault.  He  lived  within  so 
circumscribed  a  world — a  few  tussocks,  a  naked 
tower,  a  rood  of  weed-grown  rock  when  the  tides 
ebbed  lowest — nothing  more.  The  wild  seabirds 
that  flew  above  his  head  vexed  him  to  a  quick  envy. 
The  gorged  cormorants,  nodding  on  outlying  reefs 
and  points  of  crag,  were  free  to  come  and  go,  while 
he  alone  was  chained  to  his  own  rock  and  tower. 

The  evening  waned  with  lonely  calls  of  curlew  on 
the  beach,  and  the  voice  of  water  sobbing  round  his 
isle.  But  Goyault's  heart  was  hot  within  him  ;  it 
seemed  as  though  the  limit  had  been  reached,  he 
could  endure  no  more.  Once  on  the  morning  of  a 
winter  day,  some  three  weeks  gone,  had  this  same 
rebellion  raged  within  him  when  he  heard  a  horn 


THE  TOWER  IN  THE  SEA.         277 

blowing  about  the  downs,  and  knew  that  Karadac 
was  hunting  on  his  lands  within  the  seigneury  of  St. 
Ouen.  A  boat  came  from  the  shore  that  day,  but 
Goyault  hid  himself  and  could  not  look  upon  the 
men  who  knew  him  to  be  so  fallen. 

Since  then  another  trouble  had  been  growing  on 
him.  For  Algitha  seemed  to  fail  in  their  bleak 
home.  Pale  and  heavy-eyed  she  moved  beside 
him,  answering  him  with  her  loving  smile,  but  the 
smile  was  wan,  and  often  she  was  lost  in  mournful 
reverie. 

The  sea  and  sky  stretched  out  to  the  horizons 
mocked  Goyault.  Was  he  a  coward,  that  for  the 
sake  of  those  grey  towers  upon  a  headland  waste  he 
thrust  away  the  thought  of  liberty  ! 

To  him  came  Algitha  in  the  dying  lights  and 
found  him  flung  face  downwards  on  the  grass,  his 
hands  clutched  in  its  wiry  stems.  She  read  his 
mood,  the  final  frenzy  of  the  captive,  and  raised  her 
eyes  to  heaven. 

"  One  day  more,  one  little  day,  and  then  he  shall 
know  all,"  she  whispered  in  her  own  heart ;  and 
kneeling  down  she  touched  him  lovingly. 

He  raised  himself  and  drew  her  down  beside  him. 

"  Dear  heart,"  he  said  ;  "  we  must  escape.  I  can- 
not see  the  light  grow  dim  in  these  sweet  eyes. 
And  yet — Gros-Nez  !  " 

"  Goyault,"  she  faltered,  "  Karadac  has  wrecked 
your  Castle." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet. 


278         THE  TOWER  IN  THE  SEA. 

"  When  heard  you  this  ?  " 

"A  boatman  told  me,  some  time  past." 

"  What  said  he  ?  "  She  scarcely  knew  the  voice  ; 
it  had  a  tone  she  could  not  understand. 

She  rose,  too,  trembling. 

"  He  said  some  bitter  words,  Goyault.  '  The  bats 
chirp  already  in  the  broken  corners  of  the  walls,  the 
wildcat  nests  on  its  hearthstones,  and  the  wind  cries 
lonely  through  its  roofless  towers  ! ' ' 

A  bitter  sound  of  cursing  followed  as  Goyault 
raged  in  hate  against  his  liege. 

"  My  Castle — in  which  my  race  have  dwelt  through 
the  long  years!  Now  truly  has  Karadac  left  naught 
undone  to  shrive  me  of  my  oaths.  I  will  go  and 
fling  defiance  in  his  face,  and  pluck  forth  his  cursed 
life!  Come,  Algitha,  we  will  build  the  beacon  fire 
upon  the  tower.  When  Gilles  or  some  other  of  my 
own  people  sees  the  blaze,  they  will  launch  out  to 
succour  us.  Come  !  " 

But  Algitha,  gone  white  as  death,  clung  to  him. 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet,  Goyault — give  us  one  more 
day  of  safety  and  of  peace!  " 

"A  day  more  or  less,  what  matters?  Let  us 
hasten,  my  revenge  can  never  come  too  soon  ! " 

Yet  Algitha  besought  him,  and,  for  he  still  re- 
fused, with  tears.  Then  Goyault,  wrought  to  a 
height  of  rage  and  bitterness,  gazed  strangely  on 
her. 

"  I  do  remember,  Algitha,  that  this  accursed 
Count  held  you  within  his  arms  and  kissed  you  in 
that  embrace ! " 


THE  TOWER  IN  THE  SEA.          279 

"  Aye,  but,  my  lord,  think  not  of  that.  Seek 
him  no  more,  but  let  us  fly  to  Normandy  and  lay 
our  suit  before  the  Duke." 

"  Would  you  save  him  from  my  just  anger?  Did 
your  heart  turn  traitor  in  you  and  lean  to  him  in 
love  upon  that  kiss  ?  " 

Had  she  made  excuse  or  wasted  breath  in  pro- 
testations, it  may  be  that  the  man  in  the  mad  spirit 
of  his  jealousy,  would  still  have  spurned  her  in  unbe- 
lief, but  Algitha,  all  broken  by  woe  and  long 
anxiety,  had  no  place  for  pride  or  womanly  resent- 
ment left  in  her :  only  in  a  quiet  of  despair  she 
stood  before  him,  her  hands  dropped  by  her  sides. 

"  Alas,  Goyault ! — for  I  have  loved  you  !  " 

Then  in  the  wild  revulsion  of  his  mood,  he  had 
her  in  his  arms,  pleading  for  her  forgiveness  and 
wasting  all  his  heart  in  love. 

"  Why  have  you  delayed  to  tell  me  this,  be- 
loved ?  " 

"  Because  I  feared,"  she  answered ;  "  and  I  have 
more  to  tell.  But  oh,  dear  lord,  I  do  beseech  you 
here  upon  my  knees,  battle  not  with  Karadac  ! '' 

"  More  to  tell — what  is  this  further  news  ?  " 

"  The  Count  has  sent  forth  a  challenge  unto  you 
and  to  all  knights  to  meet  him  in  the  lists,  where 
he  will  maintain  the  beauty  of  his  lady  as  the  fairest 
fair  against  whosoever  dares  dispute  it." 

Goyault  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  out 
bitterly. 

"  Gundred   beautiful — Gundred  the    fairest  fair! 


280          THE  TOWER  IN  THE  SEA. 

In  truth,  Karadac  has  a  mean  excuse  for  mighty 
courage !  Come,  let  us  light  the  beacon.  I  cannot 
disregard  a  challenge  which  calls  my  lady's  loveli- 
ness in  question.  Gundred  the  fairest  fair  !  "  He 
laughed  again,  till  his  sadness  dropped  from  him 
in  the  glad  hope  of  action. 

"  Not  to-night,  Goyault." 

"  There  is  some  other  reason  here,''  he  cried  im- 
patiently. "  I  will  hear  all  and  so  be  done  with  it. 
Where  have  you  learned  of  late  to  keep  this  close 
reserve  ?  I  scarce  can  find  due  explanation  of  it," 
he  spoke  in  umbrage. 

"  To-morrow  the  lists  are  set  beneath  your  own 
wrecked  Castle  of  Gros-Nez,"  she  answered  des- 
pairingly, "  and  I  am  fain  to  save  you." 

"  Fain  to  save  me  ?  Know  you  not  this  en- 
counter is  what  I  seek  !  " 

"  O  Goyault,  I  am  afraid  for  you  !  " 

"  Lady  mine,"  he  said  coldly,  "  your  mind  has 
grown  distraught  in  this  lone  exile." 

"  No,  no — but  I  see  a  fate  in  the  dark  Count's 
eyes,  and  I  am  afraid !  Did  I  fear  for  you  when 
you  slew  Morlaix  in  Grenezay?  Nay!  But  here 
is  one  who  communes  with  the  unseen,  who  wanders 
lonely  by  haunted  hills,  who  can  call  strange  powers 
to  his  aid.  O  Goyault,  do  not  go  ! " 

"  And  be  for  ever  shamed  ?  Lady,  I  love  you 
too  well  to  let  the  challenge  pass.  Karadac  is  but 
a  man  as  I  am.  To-morrow  I  will  ride  out  to  meet 
him  in  the  lists  and  prove  it  by  my  lance.  I  will 


THE  TOWER  IN  THE  SEA.          281 

set  us  free  from  the  shackles  that  have  bound  us. 
Free  again — Oh,  to  be  once  more  free  !  " 

With  that  he  turned  and  climbed  to  the  tower's 
height,  and  in  the  singing  sea-breeze  built  a  fire, 
Algitha  helping  him. 

After  that  was  nothing  more  to  do  than  wait  for 
darkness,  which  to  Goyault  seemed  never  so  long 
delayed.  But  night  settled  over  all  at  last.  Then 
from  the  beacon  the  flames  rose  upwards,  twisting 
and  leaping  clear  against  a  void  of  gloom.  And 
Goyault,  as  the  answering  signal  tarried,  was  full  of 
joyous  expectation. 

"  Here  will  we  return  no  more,"  he  said,  "  save 
perchance  in  some  far-off  happy  time  when  we  sail 
back  to  Gersay,  then  come  to  look  again  upon  our 
rock  and  tower  for  sweet  memory's  sake." 

Night  came,  and  the  fire,  flaring  to  full  bright- 
ness, thereafter  died  slowly  down,  for  they  had  no 
fuel  more  to  feed  it.  Yet  none  made  answer  from 
the  shore,  and  no  boat  steered  through  the  darkness 
to  their  aid. 

For  all  the  dunes  were  desolate,  the  few  dwellers 
there  being  gone  to  Gros-Nez  to  see  the  barriers 
built  about  the  lists  for  the  Count's  great  tourna- 
ment. 

Goyault  still  held  to  hope,  knowing  his  people's 
faithfulness ;  but  the  last  glow  died,  and  the  fire 
fell  together  into  ashes. 

Still  he  waited  for  release.  And  there  waiting 
the  dawn  found  him. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY. 

MANY  gathered  to  the  great  tournament  pro- 
claimed by  the  Count  of  Gersay.  For  on  the  main- 
land in  the  coast  towns  lay  an  idle  host,  which 
William  of  Normandy  was  slowly  drawing  to  his 
banner  by  promises  of  land  and  wealth  in  England. 
From  every  quarter  of  his  dominions  he  exacted 
men  and  ships  and  gold,  but  the  time  for  invasion 
was  not  ripe,  therefore  Karadac's  challenge  rang  in 
ready  ears. 

The  little  bay  beneath  the  Castle  of  Mont  Or- 
gueil  was  full  of  craft,  the  huts  of  Gouray  stood 
bright  amongst  flaunting  pennons  and  on  the  beach 
with  shout  and  laughter  the  knights  thrust  in  their 
boats  to  land.  Some  went  forward  to  pitch  their 
tents  overnight  upon  the  field,  but  the  chiefest 
abode  with  Karadac  in  Mont  Orgueil. 

Thence  in  the  spring-scented  dense  blue  morning 
a  lengthened  cavalcade  wound  forth  along  the 
northern  cliffs  to  Gros-Nez.  A  laggard  wind  puffed 
in  their  faces,  pennons  drooped  languorously  to  the 
stout  ash-handles  with  scarce  a  flutter,  and  only  a 
dull  daylight  flickered  upon  the  polished  Poictiers 


THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY.  283 

lance-heads ;  spear  and  shield,  sword  and  lance, 
borne  by  squires  after  their  mailed  lords.  Here 
rode  the  mighty  knight  of  Dol,  a  man  of  bold  eyes 
and  strong  sun-coloured  face.  And  here  a  fair- 
beard  from  Provence,  a  harper,  and  a  singer  who 
wore  a  favour  bound  in  blue  upon  his  helmet. 

There  also  passed  Gundred  in  a  litter,  curtained 
from  all  eyes  until  she  should  take  the  place  pre- 
pared for  her  beside  the  lists.  No  word  had  passed 
between  her  and  her  lord,  who  could  not  forgive 
her,  yet  was  ready  to  defend  her  with  his  life  against 
the  reproaches  of  a  world  !  Never  had  she  loved 
him  so  utterly  as  at  the  moment  when  they  brought 
her  word  of  that  last  poignant  proof  of  his  deep 
hurt  and  noble  chivalry. 

The  lists  were  set  beneath  the  ruined  towers  of 
Gros-Nez.  But  in  the  warm  dense  blueness  of  that 
cloudy  day  the  wild  arcs  of  sea  and  sky  seemed 
drawn  in  close  about  them.  At  noon  all  was  pre- 
pared. Gundred  sat  on  her  high  chair  amongst  a 
bevy  of  fair  and  jewelled  dames :  but  one  place  was 
empty,  the  place  reserved  for  Algitha. 

On  that  first  day  it  was  announced  with  flourish 
of  trumpet  that  the  Count  Karadac  would  hold  the 
lists  against  all  comers  in  his  lady's  name. 

Therefore  at  the  appointed  moment  he  rode  out 
into  the  grassy  oblong  of  the  course  to  make  good 
his  challenge  ;  a  splendid  figure  clad  in  close  chain- 
mail,  bearing  upon  his  shield  the  three  leopards  of 
his  cognizance,  and  upon  his  crest  the  tall  aigrettes 


284  THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY. 

of  whalebone  which  proclaimed  haut  seigneur  of  a 
seagirt  land. 

The  knight  of  Dol  made  first  claim  to  tilt  before 
the  brunt  of  battle  wore  down  the  strength  and 
skill  of  Gersay's  famous  champion,  the  which  was 
readily  accorded. 

They  faced  one  the  other  for  a  moment  west 
and  east,  two  mighty  horsemen,  each  with  lance  in 
rest,  then  thundered  to  the  shock.  A  hurtling 
rush,  a  crash  of  arms,  and  the  two  combatants 
swept  on,  to  wheel  and  meet  again. 

Once  more  they  met,  and  crashed  and  passed, 
but  the  knight  of  Dol,  mounted  upon  his  huge 
Flemish  steed,  though  not  unseated,  rocked  in  his 
saddle  as  a  tower  that  reels,  then  dropped  to  earth. 

And  those  who  bore  him  from  the  field  needed 
not  to  raise  the  battered  visor,  knowing  that  life 
was  gone. 

Others  of  less  note  followed,  but,  though  de- 
feated and  cast  down,  none  suffered  the  same  dire 
fate.  And  Karadac's  people  jested  proudly  and 
swore  their  Count  dealt  gently  with  the  champions 
from  overseas. 

So  the  day  waned,  and  ever  between  the  con- 
tests, Karadac  called  to  the  herald  with  a  question, 
and  ever  the  herald  answered  : 

"  Nay,  lord,  the  sieur  Goyault  comes  not  yet ; " 
and  at  length  :  "  But  we  have  sent  a  company  to 
seek  him." 

Then  Karadac  on  a  fresh  steed  faced  the  Proven- 


THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY.  285 

$al,  a  knight  reputed  matchless  in  the  jousts.  But 
him  also  the  great  Count  overthrew,  yet  suffered 
some  slight  wounds  before  he  conquered. 

Thereupon  broke  forth  a  storm  of  shoutings,  for 
Karadac  was  victor  in  the  lists,  and  Lady  Gundred 
should  be  forthwith  proclaimed  as  Queen  of  Love 
and  Beauty. 

Then  up  the  length  of  empty  space  rode  Kara- 
dac, ill-content,  vexed  at  soul  that  Goyault  was  not 
come  in  answer  to  his  challenge,  for  victory  was 
not  victory  until  they  two  had  tried  conclusions, 
man  to  man. 

So  he  rode,  and  on  a  sudden,  casting  his  eyes 
upon  the  ladies'  gallery,  saw  behind  the  high  chair 
of  Gundred  a  tall  girlish  form  that  stood  upright, 
clad  in  white  and  blue,  with  clouds  of  golden  hair, 
one  who  laughed  triumphantly  across  the  open 
lists  in  pure  pride  and  faith  of  love,  Algitha,  her 
fears  all  gone.  For  Goyault,  her  peerless  lord  and 
champion,  must  surely  win. 

Even  at  this  hour  the  sight  of  her  half-unnerved 
the  Count.  He  felt  the  aching  thrill  of  one  who 
sees  a  chance  resemblance  to  the  loved  and  lost. 
And  so  turned  to  meet  his  enemy. 

Goyault  rode  out  resplendent,  tossing  his  lance, 
and  caracoled  lightly  forward. 

"  I  throw  you  back  your  challenge,  Count  of  Ger- 
say,  and  uphold  my  lady  Algitha  as  Queen  of  Love 
and  Beauty !  " 

And  then  as  with  one   action,   each  raised    his 


286  THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY. 

visor  and  looked  deep  in  the  other's  estranged 
eyes.  Men  say  who  saw  him  that  the  Count 
looked  darker  and  sterner  than  his  wont,  the  war- 
light  kindling  in  his  scarred  eyes  and  round  about 
his  tortured  mouth  gathering  the  set  of  his  imperi- 
ous will. 

And  again  the  people  shouted.  It  was  one  of 
the  rare  moments  when  they  felt  the  black  Count's 
heart  leap  in  unison  with  their  own,  when  an  en- 
lightening gleam,  flashing  across  the  perfervid  si- 
lence of  his  life,  showed  them  at  once  the  man  and 
the  leader  they  had  gladly  died  for. 

And  those  about  the  paling  muttered  : 

"The  Count's  invincible  !  " 

And  some,  "  Remember  Morlaix  !  " 

"  Saints,  how  they  hate  !  " 

"  Aye,  so  shall  we  see  the  stronger  blows  !  " 

Goyault  reined  back  towards  his  starting-point  at 
the  eastern  end,  and  up  before  his  eyes  loomed  his 
broken  castle  of  Gros-Nez  ;  rents  in  its  mighty  walls 
and  with  roofless  towers  gaping  up  to  heaven. 
And  the  unslaked  thirst  for  vengeance  rose  like  a 
tide  within  him.  Karadac  must  die  ! 

He  gripped  hard  at  the  horse  between  his  knees, 
the  same  which  had  carried  him  with  Algitha  be- 
yond pursuit  at  Gouray.  Hidden  in  a  serf's  hovel, 
Gilles  had  cared  for  it,  watting  the  escape  of  Goy- 
ault from  the  ocean  tower. 

The  signal  pealed  out.  Both  champions  spurred 
forward  and  shocked,  but  lightly,  for  Goyault  rode 


THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY.  287 

with  guile  and  waited  on  opportunity.  Wheeled 
and  shocked  again :  still  Goyault  held  off  from  the 
stress  of  strong  encounter. 

At  length  the  battle  closed,  and  those  who  saw  it 
shouted  at  the  strokes.  Swift,  fierce  and  deadly, 
blow  on  blow.  Men  said  that  never  was  so  long  a 
fight,  and  yet  meanwhile  a  little  cloud  drifted  scarce 
a  handsbreadth  in  the  heavens. 

At  length  the  end  drew  on.  A  moment  swept 
Karadac  into  the  heart  of  battle.  He  engulfed 
Goyault,  but  ever  Goyault  leaped  from  peril.  But 
at  the  last  they  rode  together  with  mortal  purpose. 
Karadac  bore  down  full  stretch  upon  his  steed,  and 
Goyault  met  him,  shock  for  shock  in  huge  concus- 
sion. Goyault's  lance  drove  upon  the  corselet  of 
the  Count  and  splintered  there,  while  Karadac  with 
a  mighty  thrust  of  his  great  arm  sent  Goyault  reel- 
ing from  his  saddle  and  flung  him  far.  But  as  the 
lance  broke  up  within  his  grasp,  Goyault  lunged 
madly  with  the  shattered  shaft,  and  some  knife- 
pointed  splinter,  jerked  aside,  drove  deep  into  the 
groin  of  Karadac's  black  charger.  It  sprang  on, 
thrown  by  the  momentum  of  its  going,  then  lurched 
and  plunged  shoulder  first  upon  the  ground,  and 
with  his  rider  rolled  over  and  yet  over,  and  was 
still. 

All  the  field  gazed  awestruck  upon  that  fall.  And 
already  a  slow  pool  of  blood  was  oozing  on  the 
grass  when  with  a  great  cry  Gundred  broke  through 
the  barrier  to  her  lord. 


288  THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY. 

Goyault  was  conquered,  and  Gundred  for  her 
lord's  pleasure  and  in  her  own  despite,  called  upon 
the  heralds  to  proclaim  him  victor. 

And  this  was  done  over  the  crushed  body,  and  a 
woman  with  a  breaking  heart  they  named  aloud  as 
Queen  of  Love  and  Beauty.  Yet  the  title  was  dear 
to  her  even  in  that  hour  because  her  lord  had  won 
it. 

Knights  and  barons  crowded  round  the  uncon- 
scious figure,  all  save  Goyault,  who  stood  aside,  and 
afterwards  with  Algitha  passed  across  the  heath. 
And  nevermore  did  Goyault  look  on  Gros-Nez. 

Tonstain  with  a  gentle  hand  unbuckled  the 
broken  armour  of  his  lord.  And  Gundred  bade 
them  bring  her  litter,  and  so  they  placed  him  in  it, 
senseless  and  dark  and  death-grey,  save  that  his 
face  bore  not  the  peace  which  comes  upon  the 
dead. 

Thus  with  slow  steps  they  bore  him  from  the 
field  whereon  he  had  gained  glory.  Gundred  walked 
beside  him,  and  after  they  had  traversed  weary 
miles  Karadac  moved  and  groaned,  and  Gundred 
stopped  the  bearers  and  bent  over  him  to  listen. 

He  lay  with  closed  eyes  and  murmured  : 

"  The  lists — their  memory  comes  to  me.  Who 
conquered,  Tonstain  ?" 

And  Gundred  answered  : 

"  My  lord  was  victor.  No  champion  but  was  over- 
thrown  by  his  strong  arm." 

He  pressed  his  pale  lips  together. 


THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY.  289 

"  I  am  glad — for  your  sake,  lady.  Is  Tonstain 
near  ?  " 

"  Here,  lord." 

"  Tonstain,  this  is  the  end  ?  " 

"  Aye,  lord." 

"  Then  bear  me  to  the  cave  of  Ulake,  for  there  it 
is  that  I  would  die." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

VICTORY. 

So  they  carried  him  to  Ulake's  hermitage. 

And  presently  he  gathered  power  of  speech.  The 
old  hermit  sat  upon  a  stool  beside  him,  his 
figure  with  its  wilderness  of  beard  etched  out 
against  a  faint  flickering  light  which  sent  faint 
gleams  up  and  down  the  dark  cavern  walls. 

"  Ulake,"  said  Karadac,  "  I  think  I  die." 

"  It  may  be,"  said  the  hermit  heavily. 

Karadac  looked  upwards  at  the  worn  and  kingly 
face. 

"You  envy  me,  perchance,  good  Ulake?" 

"  Nay,"  said  Ulake,  "  I  know  not  if  I  envy.  To 
envy  would  be  sin.  God  draws  our  path  across  the 
sands  of  life  ;  we  follow  through  a  mist  that  hides 
the  next  step  onward." 

"You  know  my  story,  Ulake — how  Goyault 
broke  his  oath,  and  Gundred  betrayed  my  blind- 
ness." The  knight's  hand  gripped  at  the  skin.s 
which  covered  him.  "  It  is  the  heaviest  punishment 
on  earth  to  have  no  hand  of  friend  to  touch,  to 
have  no  lips  of  wife  to  dream  of;  nothing  left  but 
the  dry  husk  of  living!" 

"  You    have  been  wronged,"  the  hermit  said  in 


VICTORY.  291 

sad,  musing  speech,  "  yet  'twas  a  great  love  that 
wronged  you." 

Then  Karadac  broke  in. 

"  Oh,  Ulake,  I  have  lost  my  dreams !  Love  is 
no  more  for  me." 

Then  Ulake  answered  clearly  : 

"  Love  cannot  die." 

"  Nay,  they  have  left  me  stripped  of  all !  But 
yesterday  I  did  forecast  the  slow  years'  return, 
wherein  I  saw  no  comfort ;  for  I  am  alone,  so 
wildly  and  so  utterly  desolate  that  I  have  no 
dreams  of  this  life  or  the  next — if  there  be  one. 
Yesterday  I  looked  down  that  dead  inexorable 
stretch  of  Time — and  now  I  think  I  die." 

The  voices  of  the  water  and  the  wind  passed 
through  the  silence  ere  he  spoke  again. 

"  I  would  pray  there  may  be  no  awakening  after 
death ;  no  knowledge  save  some  half-remembered 
liftings  of  the  heart  as  in  bygone  dawnings,  some 
secret  dim  communion  with  Nature  in  her  wild 
wet  moods.  You  know  the  thrills — even  my  dust 
could  scarce  forget  them." 

So  the  Count's  strength  faded. 

Then  Ulake  rose,  and  with  solemn  rites  bade 
him  partake  of  the  last  comfort  the  Church  sends 
to  her  dying. 

Thereafter  Karadac  moved  not  while  the  hermit 
prayed.  Then  Ulake  touched  him  softly. 

"  The  tide  is  rising,  and  with  the  tide  comes  a 
boat  that  bears  the  Lady  Gundred." 


292  VICTORY. 

Karadac  raised  his  dream-weary  eyes. 

"  Hermit,  I  pray  I  may  be  dead  before  she 
comes." 

"  At  this  last  hour,  can  you  not  forgive  ?  " 

"  I  forgave  her  long  ago.  But  I  have  kept  the 
semblance  of  my  anger.  For  I  cannot  love  her, — 
nay,  I  know  not  why." 

"  She  is  most  worthy  to  be  loved.  Aye,  although 
she  sinned  against  you." 

"  Ulake,  I  have  been  wrung  with  pity  for  her  ! 
And  had  it  been  within  the  human  power  God  gave 
me,  I  should  have  feigned  a  kindness  that  I  could 
not  feel.  But  through  the  years  long  past  I  could 
not  choose  but  loathe  her!  " 

"  And  now  ?     For  if  you  die  before  she  comes — ?  " 

"  Give  her  some  message  that  will  ease  her  heart. 
Say  anything.  The  dead  are  safe." 

"  I  will  say  to  her  that  you  spoke  of  a  shared 
hereafter,  wherein  she  held  her  part.  A  lie  indeed, 
yet — " 

"  One  of  God's  lies,  for  there  be  such  on  this 
unhappy  earth." 

Ulake  spoke  on. 

"  Karadac,  you  have  been  in  all,  save  the  matter 
of  those  first  wanderings  on  your  way  of  love,  a 
very  perfect  knight.  Under  happier  stars  you 
should  have  risen  to  an  age-long  fame." 

"  Aye,  and  I  am  now  an  age-long  scorn,  a  legend 
of  defeated  love  !  " 

And  so  fell  back  to   silence.     Then    the  hermit 


VICTORY.  293 

turned,  and  lo !  across  the  glooming  of  the  waters 
came  a  little  light. 

"  It  is  the  Lady  Gundred,"  he  said.  "  I  will  call 
her  from  the  boat." 

The  Count's  dark  head  moved  restlessly. 

"  Nay,  call  her  not." 

"  Have  pity,  Karadac.  She  is  stricken  more  mor- 
tally at  her  soul's  core  than  you.  Have  you  no 
word  to  give  her  that  may  cast  some  ray  upon  the 
shadows  of  her  lonely  days  in  store  ?  " 

So  Gundred  came  and  knelt  all  tearfully  by  the 
Count,  and  saw  his  eyes  were  closed,  but  his  voice 
spake  in  gentleness  as  in  the  summer  days. 

"  Gundred." 

"  My  lord." 

"  I  would  ask  your  pity  and  your  prayers." 

And  Gundred  had  no  words  to  answer  him. 

"  I  pray  you  say  farewell.  Death  grows  on  me. 
I  would  not  have  you  see  my  agony." 

Gundred  laid  a  hand  upon  his  brow,  and  Kara- 
dac's  voice  came  forth  with  deadly  pain. 

"  Lady,  there  were  deeds  by  which  I  wronged 
you." 

"  The  sin  was  mine.     Yet,  Karadac — I  loved  !  " 

"  All  is  awry.  Great  woe  lies  on  us  both.  You 
did  me  wrong,  or  warring  fate,  or  Heaven's  purpose 
— I  know  not  which.  Some  wanton  hand  entangled 
our  sad  destinies  :  Goyault  and  Algitha,  you,  Lady 
Gundred,  and  blind  Karadac.  Was  ever  such  a 
tale !  " 


294  VICTORY. 

"  Forgive  me,"  whispered  Gundred. 

"  Forgive  ?  "  said  Karadac.  "  You,  to  whom  I 
owe  such  happiness  as  dragged  me  back  from  death 
at  Gros-Nez  to  fulfill  my  written  lot  !  I  have  com- 
manded Tonstain  to  uphold  you  regent  in  my  seig- 
neuries.  And  now,  farewell.  Death's  hand  is  at 
my  heart." 

In  a  last  anguish  Gundred  bent  above  him,  and 
from  her  poor  eyes  a  tear  fell  on  his  face.  And 
even  in  that  moment  he  flinched  beneath  it,  then 
groaned  in  utter  anguish,  but  Gundred  knew  the 
death-clutch  at  his  vitals  had  less  power  to  wound 
him  than  that  tear.  Softly  rising,  she  went  forth, 
for  what  farewell  could  she  give  to  him  ? 

Then,  knowing  Ulake  at  his  side  again,  he  mur- 
mured bitterly  : 

"  Oh,  hermit,  even  now  I  could  not  look  on  her  ! 
What  fate  is  this  of  ours  ?  What  is  love  ? — I  know 
not." 

And  Ulake  : 

"What  is  love,  alas!  lord  Count?  A  pulse  of 
our  own  heart.  But  the  mortal  body  is  a  snare. 
Would  your  fair  Algitha  have  laid  so  soft  a  hand 
upon  your  brow  if  you  had  slighted  her?  Is  not 
this  love — the  true  love  that  you  sought  for? 
Surely,  in  that  deep  heart  of  Gundred's  you  found 
love  fulfilled  !  Beyond  this  earth,  our  poor 
flesh-temples'  shed,  which  will  you  love  ? — which 
soul,  which  dream,  which  immortality?  For  your 
salvation's  sake  make  answer  !  " 


VICTORY.  295 

"  Nay,  who  can  answer?"  and  so  for  a  time  lay 
frowning  out  the  difficult  thoughts  of  one  in 
deathly  agony. 

"  Call  Gundred  hither."     Karadac's  voice. 

And  she  came  in  trembling. 

"Gundred,  life  is  nearly  past  for  me.  But  think 
not  that  I  have  forgotten.  Nay,  for  when  I  close 
my  eyes,  I  dream  through  tears  of  hours  you  wot 
of.  'Twas  love  fulfilled  indeed.  Perhaps  in 
death — " 

"  Oh,  Karadac,  have  we  not  spoken,  you  and  I,  of 
God's  beyond  ?  " 

"  Aye,  some  tell  us  of  it,  as  this  hermit  here. 
And  we  believed  it — you  and  I — in  those  past 
times.  If  that  beyond  there  be,  I  will  await  you 
there,  and,  perchance,  by  pity  of  our  sweet  Lord 
Christ,  we  may  be  given  back  the  love  that  broke 
at  Gouray  on  that  autumn  day.  And  if  outside  of 
this  sad  earth  no  meeting-place  be  found,  then  I 
thank  you  for  your  love.  I  was  unworthy  of  it, 
Gundred,  for  it  has  been  a  love  beyond  compare. 
And  so  farewell !  " 

He  raised  his  hands  and  drew  her  brow  upon  his 
lips,  and  kissed  her. 

And  Ulake  led  her  forth  forever  into  a  grey 
morning-mist  of  rain. 


EPILOGUE. 

LEGEND  clusters  round  the  name  of  Karadac. 
For  its  poetry  clings  about  the  greatly  fortunate  and 
most  misfortunate  alike.  In  its  long  rolls  of  honour 
and  dishonour  only  the  commonplace  are  dead. 

Some  say  Karadac  died  with  Ulake  in  the  hermit- 
age, and  Gundred  carried  home  her  lord  to  the 
chapel  of  Mont  Orgueil.  There  they  built  him  a 
tomb,  and  hung  his  arms  upon  the  wall.  And 
traditions  grew  around  him  :  how  on  nights  when 
the  sand,  shifted  by  the  storm,  spoke  at  the  narrow 
windows,  the  dark  Count  rose,  and  walked,  and 
watched  in  the  stone-built  chapel,  and,  wandering 
to  the  arched  door,  sang  high  battle-chants.  And 
morning  found  him  at  his  rest  again. 

Others  say  he  lived,  and  departed  secretly  to  fight 
God's  battle  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  there  did 
mighty  deeds  of  prowess. 

But  if  the  truth  be  with  this  tale  or  that,  who 
knows? 

Goyault  and  Algitha  fled  to  the  Duke  in  Nor- 
mandy, and  thence  to  English  soil,  where  Goyault 
received  rich  demesnes  and  plunder.  And  they  two 
lived  in  great  content,  and  Algitha  bore  her  lord 
sons,  so  that  Goyault's  seed  is  in  the  land  to-day. 

But  nevermore  Goyault  returned  to  Gersay,  for 


EPILOGUE.  297 

there  Gundred  ruled.  And  the  great  Castle  of 
Gros-Nez  crumbled  from  year  to  year,  Time  laying 
his  heavy  hand  upon  it.  Now,  at  the  limit  of  the 
wild  heath-land,  naught  but  a  broken  arch  stands 
upright  to  tell  the  story  of  its  ruin. 

Tonstain  also  sought  the  Duke's  favour,  coun- 
selling his  way  to  power,  and  there  was  none  the 
Saxons  hated  so. 

Gundred  lived  long  in  her  own  sunny  Isle,  dwell- 
ing in  cloistered  silence,  broken  only  by  the  tolling 
of  the  bells.  And  in  her  time  she  bore  a  son,  who 
lit  for  her  anew  a  lamp  of  hope.  Thus  through  the 
years  the  mornings  and  the  evenings  wore  away, 
and  Gundred  joined  the  slumber  of  God's  dead. 

So  runs  the  chronicle  of  those  who  in  that  Nor- 
man dawning  wandered  in  the  wild-wood  ways  of 
love. 

And  now  their  voices  are  a  far-off  drone,  as  ours 
will  be,  while  the  same  hills  that  look  on  us  to-day 
will  look  on  our  forgetting.  For  who  will  remem- 
ber us  when  we  have  been  dead  a  thousand  years  ? 


